WHO   IS   THIS   BOY?  —  Page  32. 


STORIES  AND  POEMS, 


MOTHER  AND  DAUGHTER. 


CAROLINE  OILMAN, 

AND 

CAROLINE   HOWARD  JERVEY. 


BOSTON: 
LEE  &   SHEPARD. 

NEW  YORK: 

LEE,   SHEPARD,  &  DILLINGHAM. 
1872.- 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1872, 

By   LEE  &   SHEPARD, 
In  the  office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


Electrotyped  and  Printed  by  ALFRED  MCDGB  &  SON, 
34  School  Street,  Boston,  Mass. 


CONTENTS. 


POEMS  FOR  CHILDREN  OF  ALL  AGES. 

BY  MRS.  CAROLINE  OILMAN. 

FACE 

The  Bird's  Nest n 

Fanny II 

The  Plea  for  the  Mouse 12 

The  Kite 12 

Who  made  the  Flowers 12 

The  Infant's  Grave c 13 

Talking  Pertly 13 

Call  to  Sunday  School 14 

The  Sailor's  Daughter  ..;........  14 

Annie  in  the  Graveyard .  14 

The  Schoolboy  and  his  Eight  Troubles 15 

Evening  Hymns    ............21 

Home  Lectures 21 

Youth ., 21 

Of  Such  is  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven 22 

The  Child's  Wish  in  June .23 

The  American  Boy 23 

What  Would  You  Choose  ?.  .      - .24 

The  Dumb  Lunatic 28 

Jairus'  Daughter 28 


iv  CONTENTS. 


PACE 

Invitation  to  a  Bird 29 

The  Little  Birds'  Answer • 29 

New  Year's  Day 30 

The  Sleeping  Baby : 30 

Father  Takes  Me  Up 30 

The  Boat 30 

Poor  Willie 31 

Invitation  to  the  Ant 31 

The  Ant's  Answer 31 

Who  is  this  Boy  ?  .         .        . 32 

Nancy  Ray 32 

"Jesus  Took  Little  Children  in  His  Arms" 32 

The  Youngest  One 33 

To  a  Butterfly  at  Church 33 

Mother,  What  is  Death  ? 33 

Wishes 34 

Jephthah's  Rash  Vow 35 

Thought  on  Zerlina  Thorn 37 

On  the  Christening  of  a  Little  Child 37 

To ..." 38 

The  Mysterious  Chair 38 

Flight  of  the  Muskoyco  Indian     .........  40 

Maiden  and  the  Marine 41 

The  Child  on  the  Ocean 42 

Seventeen 42 

Joshua's  Courtship        ...........  43 

Mary  Ann  Gibbs  of  Stored 43 

The  Sentinel 48 

Thoughts  on  the  Portrait  of  Stuart's  Washington 48 


CONTENTS. 


STORIES   AND   TALES   FOR   THE   YOUNG. 
BY  MRS.  CAROLINE  OILMAN. 

PAGE 

Holidays  at  the  Plantation 51 

The  Boy  Who  Wished  it  would  Rain  Money 60 

Punctuation .        .  65 

Master  Dicky  Bluff 67 

A  Little  Girl  that  Bites  her  Nails 68 

The  New  Scholar 69 

Cinder  Claws 71 

St.  Nicholas 73 

The  Masks 76 

The  Wagon  Boy 85 

A  Sullivan's  Island  Story      ..........87 

The  Young  Mathematician .        .  102 

Tiny  Telia 105 

The  May  Day  Wreath 107 

The  French  Traveller 109 

The  Missionaries 115 

Mr.  Niblo,  the  Bashful  Lecturer 128 

The  Young  Conspirators .        .        .        .139 

Good  Night 152 

The  Lost  Mail 153 

Mr.  Inkliii .  166 


FAIRY   LAND,   AND  OTHER  TALES. 

BY  MRS.  CAROLINE  H.  JERVEY. 

Fairy  Land 177 

Lost  and  Found 196 

Thoughts  About  the  Moon 197 

What  Becomes  of  Pins         ..........  199 


VI  CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

The  Rich  Child  and  the  Poor  Child 208 

The  Mouse  Who  Went  to  See  the  World 209 

Nice  Habits 218 

Bad  Temper  and  its  Cure 219 

Lillian 237 

"I  Wish  I  Had" 239 

Our  Father  Who  Art  in  Heaven 249 

Morning  and  Evening  Prayer .  249 

The  Wish  Granted 250 

The  Little  Garden 260 

Ten  Stops      . 261 

The  School-Girl's  Quarrel     .        . 261 

The  Wind 264 

The  Bird  that  Flew  in  through  the  Window 265 

The  Broken  Necklace 266 

Turn  Away 283 

The  Fall  from  the  Swing 284 

Whitfield 290 

Day  and  Night •*..  291 


OUR   WELCOME   TO   YOUNG   READERS. 

BY  MRS.    CAROLINE   OILMAN. 


WHAT  children  come  with  busy 
feet, 

Our  double  offering  now  to  greet  ? 
Here  's  Eliza,  here  is  Sue, 
Here  is  bright-eyed  Sarah,  too  ! 
Here  are  Mary  and  Maria, 
Here  are  Peter  and  Sophia ; 
Here  are  Thomas  and  Amelia, 
Here  is  Charles,  and  here  Cornelia ; 
Isaac,  with  his  laughing  eye, 
And  pleasant  Julius  standing  by. 
Here  is  David,  here  is  Arthur, 
Here  are  Rosamond  and  Martha, 
Here  are  Benjamin  and  James, 
'T  is  hard  to  think  of  all  their  names. 
Here  are  Joe  and  Henrietta, 
Here  are  George  and  Violetta  ; 
There  Lois  now  extends  her  hands, 
And  Lilian  for  our  welcome  stands, 
While  Georgia  turns  her  pretty  head, 
To  find  young  Roland  near  her  tread. 
Matilda  gently  comes  along. 
While  Philip,  too,  is  in  the  throng. 
Here  are  Catherine  and  Theresa, 
Christiana  and  Louisa, 


Esther  and  young  Margaret, 
Emeline  and  Harriet 
Frederic  and  Adeline, 
Justina  sweet,  and  Valentine. 
Here  are  Nathan  and  Eugene, 
'While  Archibald  comes  in  between. 
Here  are  Jane  and  Theodore, 
Rosaline  and  Eleanor ; 
Here  are  Lucy  and  Pamelia, 
With  Alonzo  and  Cecelia  ; 
Here  is  Henry  close  to  Sam, 
You  can't  think  how  confused  I  am. 
Here  comes  Virginia  and  Stephen, 
And  Mary  Ann  to  make  it  even. 
Here  is  Charlotte,  here  is  Ellen, 
Here  is  Francis,  here  is  Helen ; 
Here's  Rebecca,  next  to  Ruth, 
The  children  puzzle  me  in  truth  ! 
Here  is  Clara  with  Susannah, 
And  Alexander  following  Hannah ; 
Here 's  Nathaniel  come  to  meet  me, 
And  Valeria  runs  to  greet  me, 
Now  Amanda  trips  before, 
Daniel,  and  Emma,  and  some  more ; 
Robert  and  Ephraim  skipping  too, 


s 


OUR   WELCOME  TO   YOUNG  READERS. 


And  Richard,  with  his  "  How  d'ye  do. 

Octavius  hastens  full  of  fun,  — 

Here  Caroline  and  Julia  run.* 

See  William  and  young  Lydia  meet, 

And  Abby  close  on  Frances'  feet 

See  Laura,  Horace,  Isabel, 

Edward  and  John,  I  know  them  well, 

Eugenia,  Edith,  Maurice,  too, 

And  Alfred  all  of  them  in  view. 

Augustus  and  Elizabeth,  — 

But  stop  and  let  me  catch  my  breath ; 

Here  are  Louis  and  Floranthe ; 

Here  are  Agnes  and  lanthe, 

Here  is  blushing  Adelaide, 

And  Clarissa,  the  pretty  maid. 

Joanna  too,  and  Amy,  see, 

'T  is  fortunate  they  all  agree. 


But  listen,  listen,  what  a  noise  ! 
Here  run  another  troop  of  boys ; 
Andrew  and  Edmund  shouting  loud, 
And  Christopher  to  swell  the  crowd. 
Edwin  and  Gilbert  following  on, 
Bertha,  too,  and  Jonathan. 
Lawrence,  Alice,  Jacob,  too, 
And  after  Louis,  master  Hugh, 
Owen,  and  Patrick ;  —  are  these  all  ? 
Oh,  no  ;  here  Walter  comes  with  Paul, 
And  hand  in  hand  with  little  Annie, 
My  darling  neighbor,  black-eyed  Fanny. 
Now  children,  dear,  go  read  your  book, 
And  on  the  pretty  pictures  look ; 
I  hope  you'll  take  as  much  delight  in 
Reading,  as  I  have  in  writing. 


POEMS 

FOR  CHILDREN   OF  ALL  AGES, 

BY 

MRS.    CAROLINE    OILMAN. 


FANNY.  — Page  11. 


POEMS    FOR    CHILDREN 


OF  ALL   AGES. 


THE  BIRD'S  NEST. 

ON  a  bright  and  pleasant  day, 
John  and  James  went  out  to  play : 
As  they  stopp'd  a  while  to  rest, 
On  a  tree  they  spied  a  nest, 
Pretty  eggs  were  lying  there, 
Pretty  eggs  all  placed  with  care. 

"  Come,"  says  Johnny,  with  a  laugh, 
"You  and  I  will  each  take  half; 
And  the  rest  we'll  give  to  Ann." 
So  towards  the  tree  they  ran. 

Just  then,  upon  a  branch  they  heard 
The  fluttering  of  the  mother-bird, 
And  a  note  that  seem'd  to  say, 
"  Will  you  take  my  eggs  away, 

"  When  I've  made  my  nest  with  care, 
And  put  them  all  so  nicely  there  ? 
Oh,  do  not,  pray,  my  nest  destroy  ! 
Have  pity  on  me,  little  boy. 

"  When  you  in  the  cradle  lay, 

No  one  took  you  far  away, 

Safe  you  were,  and  smit'd  and  smil'd, 

A  little  bright  and  happy  child. 


"  And  your  mother  loved  you  so, 
Better  than  you  e'er  can  know. 
Then  do  not  take  my  nest  away, 
Little  boy,  I  beg  and  pray." 

John  and  James  said  not  a  word, 
And  their  little  hearts  were  stirr'd ; 
They  wip'd  their  eyes  and  went  to  play, 
And  felt  quite  happy  all  that  day. 


FANNY. 

HRHERE'S  not  a  little  girl  I  meet, 
-L      Not  even  Sue  or  Annie, 
That  seems  to  me  more  fair  and  sweet 
Than  my  young  neighbor,  Fanny. 

'Tis  not  because  her  eyes  are  black, 
And  look  so  bright  and  funny  ; 

'Tis  not  because  her  breath  is  pure, 
As  new-mown  hay  or  honey. 

'Tis  not  because  at  dancing-school 

Her  step  is  light  and  airy, 
Or  that  she  skips  about  the  house 

Just  like  a  little  fairy. 


12 


POEMS  FOR   CHILDREN 


'Tis  not  because  in  Worcester 

She  learns  a  "  monstrous  "  column  ; 

Nor  that  she  sits  in  company 
Sometimes  quite  still  and  solemn. 

Nor  is  it  that  her  little  hands 

She  waves  about  so  gaily, 
When  telling  every  artless  thought 

That  fills  her  bosom  daily. 

It  is  because  good-nature  comes 
To  light  each  limb  and  feature, 

That  Fanny  always  seems  to  me 
A  charming  little  creature. 


THE   PLEA  FOR  THE   MOUSE. 

OH,  ma,  speak  to  my  pussy  and 
kitty; 

They  are  dragging  all  over  the  house, 
Without  any  mercy  or  pity, 
A  poor  little  innocent  mouse  ! 

I  hate  to  see  such  wicked  cunning, 

For  pussy  allows  it  to  go, 
And  just  as  the  mouse  thinks  of  run- 
ning, 

She  catches  and  teases  it  so. 

MOTHER. 

My  son,  our  old  puss  cannot  reason, 
And,  therefore,  she  is  not  a  sinner  ; 

Perhaps  this  is  not  hungry  season, 
And  this    teasing    is  .  cooking    her 
dinner. 

But  when    children,   my  darling,   are 
cruel, 

And  injure  the  brutes  heaven  made, 
They  sully  the  beautiful  jewel, 

That  with  a  kind  heart  is  inlaid. 


THE  KITE. 

OH  look  at  my  kite, 
In  its  airy  flight ; 
How  gaily  it  flies, 
Right  up  to  the  skies, 
With  its  white  breast  stirr'd, 
Just  like  a  bird  I 

Pretty  kite,  pretty  kite, 
In  your  airy  flight, 
What  do  you  spy, 
In  the  bright  blue  sky  ? 

I  wish  I  were  you, 

To  be  there,  too, 

Oh,  then,  how  soon 

I  would  peep  at  the  moon, 

And  see  the  man  there, 
Who  gives  me  a  stare, 
When  I  look  up  at  night 
At  his  beautiful  light ! 


WHO  MADE  THE  FLOWERS? 
A   LITTLE  child,  who  loves  to  see 
xl.     The  bright  sun  shining  clear, 
Is  often  asking,  "  Where  is  He 
Who  placed  the  bright  sun  here  ?  " 

She  sees  the  moonlight's  silver  gleam, 
And  stars  with  twinkling  ray, 

And  says,   "  Who  made  that    gentle 

beam, 
Almost  more  fair  than  day  ?  " 

She  gathers  for  her  mother  dear 

A  blossom  rich  and  fair, 
And  asks,  "  Who  placed  these  colors 
here, 

And  mixed  them  with  such  care  ? " 


OF  ALL  AGES. 


'Tis  God,  my  child,  who  will  impart 
More  glorious  objects  still, 

A  temper  mild,  a  feeling  heart, 
And  strength  to  do  His  will. 


THE  INFANT'S  GRAVE. 

COME,  mother,  will  you  go  and  see 
Where  little  brother  lies  ? 
"  I  cannot,  love,  for  if  I  should, 
The  tears  would  dim  my  eyes. 

"  Not  yet,  not  yet  —  I  cannot  gaze 

Upon  that  chilly  clod  ! 
Better  it  is  for  me  to  think 

That  he  is  with  his  God. 

"  A  few  short  months,  and  grass  will 

grow 

Over  his  little  grave, 
And    then,    perhaps,   the    churchyard 

flower 
Will  spring  and  gently  wave. 

"  Then  will  we  go,  and  I  will  see 
Where  my  sweet  baby  lies  ; 

For  God  will  soothe  my  breaking  heart, 
And  dry  my  weeping  eyes." 


M 


TALKING  PERTLY. 

AMMA,  I've  lost  my  thimble, 

And  my  spool  has  roll'd  away : 
My  arms  are  aching  dreadfully, 
And  I  want  to  go  and  play. 

I've  spent  the  livelong  morning, 
Picking  out  this  endless  seam, 

So  many  pieces  in  a  shirt, 
Is  quite  a  foolish  scheme. 


If  /  could  set  the  fashion, 

I  know  what  I  would  do ; 
I'd  not  be  troubling  people, 

And  make  them  sit  and  sew. 

I'd  put  some  homespun  on  their  necks, 

And  sew  it  all  around ; 
And  make  them  look  like  cotton  bags, 

Placed  endwise  on  the  ground. 

I  hate  to  make  these  button-holes, 

I  do  not  love  to  stitch ; 
My  threads  keep  breaking  all  the  time, 

With  just  a  little  twitch. 

There's  Johnny  playing  marbles, 

And  Susan  skipping  rope ; 
They  have  finished  all  their  easy  tasks, 

While  I  must  sit  and  mope. 

I  think,  mamma,  'tis  very  hard, 
That  you  should  keep  me  here, 

When  the  blue  sky  looks  so  temptingly, 
And  the  sun  is  shining  clear. 

Mamma  !     She's  gone  and  left  me, 
And  closely  shut  the  door  ; 

Mamma,  mamma,  come  back  again ! 
I  will  not  grumble  more. 

Oh,  dear,  how  foolish  I  have  been  !  — 

From  dinner  I  must  stay ; 
Mamma,  mamma,  come  back  again ! 

Forgive  your  child,  I  pray. 

Alas,  she's  reached  the  balcony, 

And  means  not  to  return  ! 
Oh,  what  a  look  she  cast  on  me, 

So  sad  and  yet  so  stern  ! 


14 


POEMS  FOR   CHILDREN 


CALL  TO   SUNDAY   SCHOOL. 

WAKE,  sister,  wake,  'tis  a  holy 
day; 

We  must  not  linger  here ; 
The  birds  are  up,  and  have  soared  away, 
And  are  singing  their  anthems  clear. 

Young  flowers  have  open'd  their  lovely 

eyes, 

And  their  rich  perfume  have  given ; 
And  they  fix  their  looks  on  the  distant 

skies, 

As    if    they    knew    something     of 
Heaven. 

We  will  go  to  the  house  of  praise  and 
prayer, 

The  altar  of  youthful  love ; 
And  Jesus  in  spirit  will  meet  us  there, 

And  bear  our  off 'ring  above1. 

Then  wake,  sister,  wake,  'tis  a  happy 

day; 

Perchance  from  his  blessed  throng 
Some  youthful  seraph  has  winged  his 

way, 
To  join  in  our  Sunday-song. 


THE   SAILOR'S   DAUGHTER. 

SAFE  rolls  the  the  ship  at  anchor 
now, 

The  sailor  clears  his  anxious  brow, 
And  with  a  deep,  but  silent  vow 

Blesses  his  little  daughter. 

His  duty  far  has  bid  him  roam, 
Amid  the  dash  of  ocean  foam, 
But  welcome  now  the  sailor's  home, 
And  she,  his  little  daughter  1 


Her  velvet  arm  is  o'er  him  thrown, 
Her  words  breathe  forth  a  gladsome 

tone, 
He  feels  that  she  is  all  his  own,  — 

The  seaman's  little  daughter. 

"  Father  you  shall  not  quit  your  child, 
And  go  upon  the  seas  so  wild, 
For  scarcely  has  my  mother  smiled 
Upon  her  little  daughter. 

"  We  care  not  for  the  coral  gay, 
Nor  costly  shells  when  you're  away ; 
Dear  father,  with  my  mother  stay, 

And  love  your  little  daughter. 

We  hear  the  fierce  wind  rushing  by, 
And  then  my  mother  heaves  a  sigh; 
And  when  it  storms  we  sit  and  cry  — 
My  mother  and  your  daughter." 

Her  head  upon  his  shoulder  lay, 
He  smoothed  her  silken  ringlets'  play,— 
She  fell  asleep  in  that  sweet  way,  — 
The  sailorls  little  daughter. 


ANNIE  IN  THE  GRAVEYARD. 

SHE  bounded  o'er  the  graves 
With  a  buoyant  step  of  mirth ; 
She  bounded  o'er  the  graves 
Where  the  weeping  willow  waves, 
Like  a  creature  not  of  earth. 

Her  hair  was  blown  aside, 

And  her  eyes  were  glittering  bright ; 
Her  hair  was  blown  aside, 
And  her  little  hands  spread  wide, 

With  an  innocent  delight 


OF  ALL  AGES. 


She  spelt  the  lettered  word 

That  registers  the  dead, 
She  spelt  the  lettered  word, 
And  her  busy  thoughts  were  stirred 

With  pleasure  as  s'.e  read. 

She  stopped  and  culled  a  leaf 
Left  fluttering  on  a  rose, 

She  stopped  and  culled  a  leaf 

Pure  monument  of  grief, 
That  in  our  churchyard  grows. 


She  culled  it  with  a  smile, 

'Twas  near  her  sister's  mound 
She  culled  it  with  a  smile, 
And  played  with  it  awhile, 
Then  scattered  it  around. 

I  did  not  chill  her  heart 
Nor  turn  its  gush  to  tears  ; 

I  did  not  chill  her  heart ; 

Oh,  bitter  drops  will  start 
Full  soon  in  coming  years. 


THE   SCHOOLBOY   AND    HIS   EIGHT   TROUBLES. 


THE  BOY   IS   COLD. 

I  THINK  I  might  get  near  the  grate, 
My  toes    they  grow  colder  and 

colder; 

I  am  sure  I  wish,  early  and  late, 
That  L  could  be  bigger  and  older. 

There's  grandma'  stowed  close  by  the 

fire, 
And  she's  managed  to  squeeze  in  my 

brother; 

Aunt  Polly  has  got  her  desire, 
And  sits  like  a  toast  next  to  mother. 

My  teeth  they  all  shake  in  my  head, 
And  my  hands  are  like  skimm'd  milk 
so  blue; 

And  my  feet  feel  as  if  -they  were  dead, 
And  I'm  sure  I  can 't  tell  what  to  do. 

I  have  tried  once  or  twice  to  go  near, 
And  they  cry  out,  "  Oh,  don't  be  a 
baby, 


Run  about  and  you'll  warm  yourself, 

dear ; " 

They  think  I've  no  feeling  then,  may 
be. 

I  just  wish  that  from  now  till  to-morrow 
They  and  I  could  change  fingers  and 

toes, 

And  then  they'd  find  out  to  their  sor- 
row, 

How  a  fellow  must  feel  when    he's 
froze. 


THE  BOY'S   COMPLAINT. 

OH,  mother,  won't  you  speak  to 
Kate  ? 

I  have  not  had  enough  to  eat : 
And  when  she  spreads  a  little  bread 
She  thinks  she  gives  me  such  a  treat. 

I  only  wish  I  was  a  man, 
To  have  my  butter  an  inch  thick, 


i6 


POEMS  FOR   CHILDREN 


And  not  be  talking  all  the  time, 

How  this  and  that  will  make  me  sick. 

Poor  little  boys  are  sadly  used, 
They  cannot  have  the  thing  they  wish; 

While  grown-up  people  help  themselves 
To  what  they  like  from  every  dish. 

As  soon  as  I  become  a  man, 
I'll  have  a  pie  as  tall  as  you, 

With  door  and  windows  like  a  house, 
And  lin'd  with  plums  all  through  and 
through. 

And  I'll  go  in  whene'er'  I  choose, 
And  sit  as  snug  as  Jacky  Horner ; 

And  even  Katey,  though  she's  cross, 
Shall  sometimes  come  anu  .at  a  cor- 
ner. 

My  windows  all  with  Mly  made, 

Like  Boston  glass  shall  glisten  bright, 

And  sugar  candy  for  the  frames, 
At  every  turn  shall  meet  my  sight. 

My  floors  shall  be  of  gingerbread, 
Because  that's  pretty  hard,  you  know, 

Sanded  all  o'er  with  sugar  plums, 
Rolling  about  where'er  I  go. 

And  mother,  Kate,  my  cellaret 

Shall  be  all  butter,  shap'd  with  ice, 

And  then  we'll  see  if  I  must  fret 
Because  I  want  a  little  slice. 

And  mother,  —  oh,  she's  gone  away  ! 

And  Katey, — what, — you've  left  me, 

too? 
I  won't  stand  talking  to  the  walls,  — 

But  go  and  find  some  work  to  do. 


THE   DRUMSTICK. 

IT  seems  very  strange,  and  I  can't 
make  it  out, 

Why  the  drumstick  is- given  to  me  ; 
I  think  I  deserve  a  nice  part  of  the  fowl, 
Yet  forever  the  drumstick  I  see. 

I  pass  the  white  meaj:  to  Miss  Ander- 
son's plate, 

And  old  Mr.  Rich  takes  the  thighs ; 
The  side-bones  go  off  at  a  terrible  rate, 

And  the  pinion  to  Sister  Ann  flics. 

If  I  were  to  count  all  the  drumsticks 

I've  had 

Since  the  pap-spoon  was  taken  away, 
And  I've  sitten  at  table  with  women 

and  men, 
You  would  hardly  believe  what  I  say. 

'T  is  said  that  a  part  helps  a  part,  and 
I'm  sure, 

If  that  is  the  state  of  the  case, 
I  think  I  can  enter  before  very  long 

With  "  Bonnets  of  Blue  "  for  a  race. 

I'm  sure  I'm  not  greedy,  but  really,  papa, 
If  you  give  me  the  drumstick  again, 

Your  son,  in  the  place  of  a  leg  like 

your  own, 
Will  exhibit  the  shank  of  a  crane. 


THE   NEW   BOOTS. 

/~~"*OME,  mc.her,  and  look  at  these 
V —     beautiful  boots, 

Just  hear  what  an  elegant  creak  ! 
I  declare,  there's  no  word  so  sweet  in 
the  world, 

As  that  which  a  new  boot  can  speak ! 


OF  ALL  ACES. 


Take  care,  sister  Anna,  don't  come  in 

my  way, 

Run  farther,  you  troublesome  chit, — 
You  would  look  at  my  boots  ?   Oh,  very 

well,  dear, 
Come  and  see  how  completely  they  fit. 

Why,  really,  the  child  has  a  share  of 

good  taste, 

Just  see  her  admiring  gaze  ! 
Come,  come,  sister  Nanny,  and  sit  in 

my  lap, 
Little  children  have  such  pretty  ways. 

Pray,   mamma,   don't    look    anxiously 

down  at  my  toes, 

I  assure  you  they  don't  hurt  at  all ; 
They  only  look  tight,  as  is  often  the 

case, 

I  would  not  have  bought  them  too 
small. 

Young  Loring  and  I  chose  our  boots 

at  one  store,  — 

His  foot  is  the  size  of  my  own ; 
But  really,  mamma,  he  bought  .his  so 

large, 
That  he  looks  like  a  clown  overgrown. 

Hark !    Toney  is  coming,  —  now  don't 

say  a  word, 

Just  see  how  his  white  eyes  will  shine. 
Hear,  Toney,  my  boy,  what  an  elegant 

creak 

Proceeds   from  these  new  boots  of 
mine  ! 

Did  you  ever  behold  a  fit  more  com- 
plete ? 
Why  turn  your  big  eyes  to  the  wall  ? 


"  He  new,  and  he  bright,  Massa  Johnny, 

for  true, 
And  pride  neber  feel  pain  at  all." 


OH,  mamma,  I  am  mortified,  hurt 
and  ashamed, 

And  scarce  can  look  up  in  your  face  : 
Young  Loring,  who  never  could  beat 

me  before, 
Has  beat  me  to  day  in  a  race. 

You  laugh  !     I  would  thank  you,  ma', 

never  to  laugh, 

As  you  do  when  I  speak  in  this  style  ; 
I  think  I  would  sometimes  prefer  to 

be  whipped 
Than  to  see  that  half-comical  smile. 

Well,   mamma,  we  were  walking  just 

out  of  the  town, 
When  Loring  proposed  we  should 

run  ; 
You  know  what  a  fellow  I  am  for  a 

race, 
And  I  thought  to  have  excellent  fun. 

So  we  started  together,  the  boys  look- 
ing on, 

My  boots  felt  as  tight  as  a  vise  ; 
I  hobbled  and  stumbled,  just  ready  to 

fall, 
While  Loring  was  off  in  a  trice. 

The  boys  shouted,  "New  boots,  run, 

new  boots,  hurrah  ! " 
Their  ridicule  went  to  my  soul; 
I  hopped  like  a  turkey,  and  was  not 

halfway, 
When  Loring  was  safe  at  the  goal. 


i8 


POEMS  FOR  CHILDREN- 


My  toes  were  all  cramp'd  and  my  ankles 

were  sore, 

And  I  made  such  a  shocking  grimace, 
That  Loring,  though  he's  such  a  gen- 
tleman, ma', 

Could  not  help  laughing  out  in  my 
face. 

And  big  Billy  Blackford  took  out  his 

hair  comb, 

And  said,  as  he  sat  on  the  grass, 
"  Though  yqur  boots  spoil  your  racing, 

they'll  serve  a  good  turn, 
And  answer  right  well  for  a  glass." 

Pray,  hand  me  my  old  boots,  dear  ma, 

if  you  please, 

And  Toney,  do  stretch  these  a  bit ; 
No  grinning,  you  rogue,  they're  scarcely 

too  small, 

Just  stretch  them;  I  know  they  will 
fit 


THE  BOY  IN  TROUBLE. 

NOW  look  at  this  hat !  is  it  fit  to 
be  seen, 

All  battered  and  tattered  and  torn  ? 
I  can 't  go  to  King  street  to  get  an  ice- 
cream, — 
I  declare,  it  is  not  to  be  bornt. 

Nay,  mother,  you  need  not  be  shaking 

your  head, 

And  looking  as  much  as  to  say, 
That  you  think  I  am  careless,  and  all 

about  that, 
In  your  solemn,  but  good-natur'd  way. 


I  am  sure  that  American  hats  are  not 

strong, 
Or  they  never  would  wear   out  so 

fast,  — 
And  here  I  must  worry  till  Christmas, 

you  say,  — 
/  do  n't  think  this  old  thing  will  last 

To  be  sure,  I  have  kicked  it  about  for 

a  ball 

And  stuff  d  it  with  ginger  cake,  too  ; 
And  once  I  let  it  drop  into  Bennett's 

mill  pond 
While  paddling  in  William's  canoe. 

And  onoe,  I  remember,  I  felt  very  dry, 
And  just  fill'd  jt  up  at  the  pump  ; 

And  once  I  was  hunting  with  Dinah  for 

eggs, 
And  gave  it  a  terrible  thump. 

I  confess  the  two  kittens  did  make  it 

their  bed, 

But  then  they  were  white  as  the  snow, 
And  puss  laid  them  carefully  into  the 

hat, 
So  I  could  not  refuse  her,  you  know. 

This  dent  on  the  top  was  an  accident, 

ma', 

And  that  cut  on  the  edge  was  an- 
other ; 
And  this  stain  with  the  physic  you  gave 

me  one  day, 

And  that  hole,  I  got  playing  with 
brother. 

Master  Robert  call'd  yesterday,  dress'd 

quite  in  style, 
And  asked  me  to  go  out  to  ride, 


OF  ALL  AGES. 


But  I  had  to  say  no,  for  a  terrible  sight 
My  old  hat  would  have  been  by  his 
side. 

And  Miss  Emma  came  also,  that  sweet 

little  girl, 

And  I  wanted  to  see  her  home  so, 
With  her  little  straw  bonnet,  all  trimm'd 

up  with  blue, 
But  how  shabby  I  look'd  for  a  beau. 

Oh,  dear!     I  must  wait  as  I  have  done 

before, 

Since  dollars  appear  very  few, 
But  I  tell  you  when  once  I  get  rid  of 

this  hat, 
I  mean  to  take  care  of  the  new. 


NOT  READY  FOR   SCHOOL. 

IT) RAY,  where  is  my  hat?  It  is 
JL  taken  away, 

And  my  shoe-strings  are  all  in  a  knot ! 
I  can't  find  a  thing  where  it  should  be 
to-day, 

Though  I've  hunted  in  every  spot 

My  si  ate  and  my  pencil  nowhere  can  be 

found, 
Though  I  placed  them  as  safe  as  can 

be; 
While  my  books  and  my  maps  are  all 

scattered  around, 
And  hop  about  just  like  a  flea. 

Do,  Rachel,  just  look  for  my  atlas  up 

stairs, 
My  ^iisop  is  somewhere  there,  too ; 


And,  sister,  just  brush  down  these  troub- 
lesome hairs, 
And,  mother,  just  fasten  my  shoe. 

And,   sister,   beg  father    to  write    an 

excuse ; 

But  stop,  he  will  only  say  "  No  " ; 
And  go  on  with  a  smile,  and  keep  read- 
ing the  news, 
While  everything  bothers  me  so. 

My  satchel  is  heavy,  and  ready  to  fall, 

This  old  pop-gun  is  breaking  my  map ; 
I'll  have  nothing*  to  do  with  the  pop- 
gun or  ball, 

There's  no  playing  for  such  a  poor 
chap. 

The  town  clock  will  strike  in  a  minute, 

I  fear, 

Then  away  to  the  foot  I  must  sink ; 
There,  look  at  my  Eaton  has  tumbled 

down  here, 
And  my  Worcester's  covered  with  ink. 

I  wish  I  'd  not  lingered  at  breakfast  the 

last, 
Though  the  toast  and  the  butter  were 

fine ; 
I  think  that  our  Edward  must  eat  pretty 

fast, 
To  be  off  when  I  haven't  done  mine. 

Now  Edward  and  Harry  protest  they 

won't  wait, 
And .  beat  on  the   door  with    their 

sticks ; 
I  suppose  they  will  say  /  was  dressing 

too  late  ; 
To-morrow,  /'//  be  up  at  six. 


2O 


POEMS  FOR  CHILDREN 


IN   TOO   GREAT   A   HURRY. 

NOW,  mother,  don't  laugh,  because 
I've  returned 

Without  a  new  hat  on  my  head ; 
I  am  sure  I  am  weary  us  weary  can  be, 
And  puzzled  enough,  as  you  said. 

In  the  first  place,  I  went  to  those  big- 
looking  stores, 
Where   the   caps  all   so   splendidly 

shine ; 
But  the  caps  looked  €o  stylish  I  could 

not  decide, 
If  a  hat  or  a  cap  should  be  mine. 

An  elegant  blue  cap  delighted  me  first, 
Which   I   felt   quite  determined  to 

buy; 
But  just  as  I  found  that  it  fitted  my 

head, 
A  brown  one  attracted  my  eye. 

I  put  on  the  brown,  and  it  set  like  a  T, 

So  I  took  out  the  money  to  pay ; 
When  Johnny  came  in,  said,  "  Don't  be 

in  haste ; 

You  have  not  been  to  Smith's  store 
to-day." 

I  looked  at  the  pretty  brown  cap  as  he 

spoke. 
John    urged,   though    I   wanted    to 

linger ; 
"  Why   the   fashion   at   Smith's   is   as 

handsome  again," 

And  he  snapped  at  my  brown  with 
his  finger. 


So,  mother,  I  thought  I  would  look  at 

his  choice, 

For  'tis  right  to  look  out  for  the  best ; 
And  an  elegant  sight  I  confess  was  dis- 
played ; 

There  were  black,  brown,  and  blue, 
and  the  rest. 

I  first  tried  on  one,  and  then  tried  an- 
other ; 
One  was   large,  and   the  other   too 

small ; 
The  clock  then  struck  three,  and  I  had 

to  come  home 
Without  bringing  any  at  all. 

I  know  I  was  stubborn,   and  said   I 

would  go, 

But  I've  tried  it  enough  to  my  sor- 
row ; 
So  I  hope  you'll  forgive  me  this  time, 

mother  dear, 

And  I'll  take  what  you  choose   me 
to-morrow. 


CANNOT   WRITE    POETRY. 

MY  paper  is  ruled  very  neat, 
Father's  made  me  an  elegant 
pen ; 
I  sit  quite  upright  on  my  seat, 

And   have   everything  ready;   what 
then  ?     • 

I  have  scratched  my  head  several  times, 
And  nothing  comes  out  of  it  yet ; 

For  my  life   I    can't    make    out    the 

rhymes ; 
Not  a  word  can  I  think  of  but  — fret. 


OF  ALL  AGES. 


21 


Dear  mother,  do  help  me  a  bit, 

I'm  puzzled,  —  no    matter,  —  here 
goes,— 

But  how  the  right  measure  to  hit,  — 
I  have  a  good  subject,  —  I  know-s. 

There  was  once  a  widow  in  trouble, 
She  was  aged  and  old,  and  advanced; 

Not  a  word  can  I  think  of  but  bubble, 
And  it  won't   do  to  say  that   she 
danced. 

A  widow  she  was  of  great  feeling, 
Of  great  feeling  this  widow  was  she ; 

'Twill  be  shocking  to  speak   of   her 

squealing, 
And  how  can  I  lug  in  a  flea ! 

This  widow  to  woe  was  a  votary, 
Oh,  mother  !  you  laugh  at  her  woes, 

And  say  I  had  better  quit  poetry, 
Until  I  know  how  to  write  prose. 


EVENING  HYMN. 

JHT'IS  evening,  and  the  skies 
J.       With  starry  lights  are  spread 

How  very  fair  the  moonbeams  rise, 
And  silver  radiance  shed  ! 

I  will  retire  to  rest, 

'Neath  Heaven's  o'er-arching  sky, 
And  feel  my  nightly  visions  blest, 

For  God  is  watching  by. 

And  if  the  wing  of  death 

Should  sweep  o'er  my  repose, 

Resign'd,  I'll  yield  to  Him  my  breath, 
And  rise  as  Jesus  rose. 


HOME-SICKNESS. 

THE  morning  sun  shines  brightly, 
But  it  shineth  not  for  me ; 
The  breeze  is  blowing  lightly, 
But  my  spirit  is  not  free. 

There's  many  a  hand  to  meet  me, 

But  mine  is  sadly  given ; 
I  thank  the  friends  who  greet  me, 

But  my  heart  is  chilled  and  riven. 

My  former  home  was  lowly, 
And  this  is  rich  and  rare  ; 

But  to  me  'tis  melancholy, 
And  that  was  bright  and  fair. 

I  know  here  is  much  smiling^ 

And  graceful,  easy  mirth, 
And  ways  of  kind  beguiling, 

And  words  of  gentle  birth ; 

And  I  try  to  check  my  sadness, 
And  look  as  bright  as  they, 

And  call  a  fitful  gladness 
To  wile  the  long,  long  day. 

If  I  could  but  see  my  mother, 
And  press  her  cheek  to  mine, 

Or  take  my  darling  brother,  — 
My  arms  about  him  twine. 

If  e'en  my  loving  dog  were  here, 

To  eat  from  out  my  hand, 
I  think  I  should  not  shed  a  tear 

Amid  this  stranger  band. 


I 


YOUTH. 

SAW  a  streamlet  flow, 
With  sparkles  bright  and  free, 


22 


POEMS  FOR   CHILDREN 


Still  dancing  to  and  fro, 
To  meet  the  rolling  sea. 

It  heeded  not  the  rock, 

Whose  shadow  frown'd  about ; 
It  heeded  not  the  shock 

Of  gnarl'd  roots  spreading  out 

And  when  a  careless  hand 
Disturb'd  its  sparkling  breast, 

And  loos'd  its  wavy  band, 
It  dimpled  into  rest 

On,  on  the  streamlet  went 
Beneath  the  burning  noon  ; 

And  onward  in  content 
Beneath  the  midnight  moon. 


And  thus  in  gay  delight 
Does  youth  in  beauty  play  " 

Through  visions  of  the  night, 
And  pastimes  of  the  day. 


"OF   SUCH   IS   THE  KINGDOM 
OF  HEAVEN." 

OWHY  should  children  fear 
j     When  sickness  dims  the  eye, 
To  spread  their  spirits'  wings 
And  soar  beyond  the  sky ; 
Since  Jesus  Christ  his  word  has  given, 
That  such  as  they  shall  enter  Heaven  ? 

Then  weep  not,  parents  dear, 

Because  we  go  above ; 
We  leave  you  here  below 

To  seek  our  Father's  love ; 
For  Jesus  Christ  his  word  has  given, 
That  such  as  we  shall  enter  Heaven. 


Sigh  not  o'er  our  pale  brows, 
Where  death  has  set  his  seal ; 

Nor  shrink  at  those  chill  hands 
That  have  no  power  to  feel ; 

For  Jesus  Christ  his  word  has  given, 

That  such  as  vie  shall  enter  Heaven. 

Muse  often  on  our  graves, 

But  not  in  stern  despair ; 
Celestial  thoughts  will  spring 

And  teach  kind  lessons  there  ; 
And  ask  if  Christ  his  word  has  given, 
That  parted  friends  shall  enter  Heaven. 

Let  our  young  playmates  come, 
And  view  the  grassy  mound, 

And  plant  their  early  flowers, 
As  if  'twere  happy  ground ; 

For  Jesus  Christ  his  word  has  given, 

That  such  as  they  shall  enter  Heaven. 

Let  old  men  wander  here, 

And  with  a  natural  sigh, 
Think  why  we've  reached  our  home 

When  they  are  lingering  by  ; 
And  ask  if  Christ  his  word  has  given, 
That     their     gray    hairs    shall    enter 
Heaven. 

And  let  the  wordly  come,  — 

Pause  on  their  busy  way, 
And  while  a  transient  tear 

Drops  for  our  lifeless  clay, 
Ask  their   own   hearts   if  Christ   has 

given 
His  word  that  they  shall  enter  Heaven. 


Let  sinners  come  alone, 
And  bow  down  o'er  our  dust, 


OF  ALL   AGES. 


And  crush  each  wicked  thought, 

And  seek  a  better  trust ; 
For  Christ   to  them  sweet   hope   has 

given, 
That  if  repentant,  theirs  is  Heaven. 

We  pray  that  all  may  come 

This  solemn  truth  to  see 
If  dust  to  dust,  then  soul  to  soul, 

Must  be  the  great  decree. 
Where  can  so  bless'd  a  spot  be  given 
To  learn  of  God  and  think  of  Heaven  ? 


THE   CHILD'S   WISH   IN  JUNE. 

MOTHER,  mother,  the  winds  are 
at  play, 

Prithee,  let  me  be  idle  to-day. 
Look,  dear  mother,  the  flowers  all  lie 
Languidly  under  the  bright  blue  sky. 

See,  how  slowly  the  streamlet  glides, 
Look,  how  the  violet  roguishly  hides  ; 
Even  the  butterfly  rests  on  the  rose, 
And  scarcely  sips  the  sweets  as  he  goe.s. 

Poor  Tray  is  asleep  in  the  noonday  sun, 
And  the  flies  go  about  him  one  by  one; 
And  pussy  sits  near  with  a  sleepy  grace, 
Without  ever  thinking  of  washing  her 
face. 

There  flies  a  bird  to  a  neighboring  tree, 
But  very  lazily  flieth  he, 
And  he  sits  and  twitters  a  gentle  note, 
That^carcely  ruffles  his  little  throat. 

You  bid  me  be  busy ;  but,  mother,  hear 
How  the  humdrum  grasshopper  sound- 
eth  near, 


And  the  soft  west  wind  is  so  light  in  its 

play, 
It  scarcely  moves  a  leaf  on  the  spray. 

I  wish,  oh,  I  wish  I  was  yonder  cloud, 
That  sails  about  with  its  misty  shroud ; 
Books  and  work  I  no  more  would  view, 
And  I'd  come  and  float,  dear  mother, 
o'er  you. 


L 


THE   AMERICAN   BOY. 
OOK  up,  my  young  American, 


Stand  firmly  on  the  earth, 
Where  noble  deeds  and  mental  power 
Yield  titles  over  birth. 

A  hallowed  land  thou  claim'st,  my  boy, 

By  early  struggles  bought, 
Heaped  up  with  noble  memories, 

And  wide,  —  ay,  wide  as  thought. 

On  the  high  Alleghany's  range, 

Awake  thy  joyous  song ; 
Then  o'er  our  green  savannas  stray, 

And  gentler  notes  prolong. 

Awake  it  'mid  the  rushing  peal, 

Of  old  Niagara's  voice, 
Or  by  our  ocean-rivers  stand, 

And  in  their  might  rejoice. 

What  though  we  boast  no  ancient  tow- 
ers, 

Where  ivied  streamers  twine  ; 
The  laurel  lives  upon  our  shores  ; 

The  laurel,  boy,  is  thine.  - 

What   though    no    "minster    lifts    its 

cross," 
Tinged  by  the  sunset  fire  ? 


POEMS  FOR   CHILDREN 


Freely  religion's  voices  swell 
Round  every  village  spire. 

And  who  shall  gaze  on  yon  blue  sea, 

If  thou  must  turn  away, 
When  young  Columbia's  stripes  and 
stars 

Are  floating  in  the  day  ? 

Who  thunders  louder  when  the  strife 
Of  gathering  war  is  heard  ? 

Who  ranges  farther  when  the  call 
Of  commerce'  voice  is  heard  ? 

What  though  on  Cressy's  distant  field 

Thy  gaze  may  not  be  cast, 
While  through  long  centuries  of  blood 

Rise  spectres  of  the  past  ? 

The  future  wakes  thy  dreamings  high, 
And  thou  a  note  mayest  claim 


Aspiring,  which  in  after  times 
Shall  swell  the  trump  of  fame. 

Yet  scenes  are  here  for  patriot  thought : 
Here  sleep  the  good  and  brave  ; 

Here  kneel,  my  boy,  and  altars  raise 
Above  the  martyr's  grave. 

On  Moultrie's  isle,  on  Bunker's  height, 
On  Monmouth's  bloody  line, 

On  Eutaw's  field,  on  Yorktown's  bank, 
Erect  thy  loyal  shrine. 

And  when  thou  art  told  of  knighthood's 

shields, 

And  English  battles  won, 
Look    up,   my  boy,   and    breath    one 

word,  — 
The  name  of  WASHINGTON. 


WHAT   WOULD    YOU  CHOOSE. 


CHOICE  OF  COUNTRIES. 

FATHER. 

I     WOULD  cross  the  wide  Atlantic, 
And  the  clifis  of  England  hail, 
For  there  my  country's  fathers 

First  set  their  western  sail. 
I  would  view  its  domes  and  palaces, 

And  tread  each  learned  hall, 
And  on  the  spot  were  Newton  trod, 

My  foot  should  proudly  fall 
I  would  gaze  upon  its  landscapes, 

The  dell  and  sunny  glade, 
And  tread  with  awe  the  cloistered  aisles, 

Where  Addison  is  laid. 


LOUISA. 
I  would  seek  the  Indian  Ocean, 

Where  the  sea-shell  loves  to  grow, 
Where  the  tints  upon  its  bosom 

In  gorgeous  beauty  glow. 
I  would  chase  the  parting  billow 

For  treasures  new  and  rare, 
And  with  wreaths'  of  blushing  coral 

Entwine  my  waving  hair. 

% 

CAROLINE. 

I  would  be  a  ship's  commander, 

And  find  the  northern  pole, 
While  o'er  untravellcd  oceans 


OF  ALL   AGES. 


My  venturous  bark  should  roll ; 
Or  I'd  seek  untrodden  islands, 

Amid  Antarctic  seas, 
And  the  standard  of  my  country 

Plant  first  before  the  breeze. 


Oh,  give  me  Carolina, 

My  dear,  my  native  home  ! 
From  her  fair  and  sheltering  borders 

I  ask  not  e'er  to  roam. 
My  school-mates  here  are  playing, 

My  parents  dear  I  see  ; 
Oh,  give  me  Carolina, 

She  is  dear  enough  for  me  ! 

ANNA. 

I  do  not  know  where  England  is, 

Or  any  other  place, 
But  I  love  to  frolic  with  my  puss, 

And  see  her  wash  her  face. 
I  '11  keep  close  by  my  baby-house, 

And  be  very  good  all  day, 
If  one  I  love  will  dress  my  dolls, 

And  let  me  have  my  way. 


The  whole  broad  earth  is  beautiful, 

To  minds  attuned  aright, 
And  wheresoe'er  my  feet  have  turned, 

A  smile  has  met  my  sight. 
The  city,  with  its  bustling  walk, 

Its  splendor,  wealth  and  power,  — 
A  ramble  by  the  river  side, 

A  passing  summer  flower  ; 
The  meadow  green,  the  ocean's  swell, 

The  forest  waving  free, 
Are  gifts  of  God,  and  speak  in  tones 

Of  kindliness  to  me. 


And,  oh  !  where'er  my  lot  is  cast, 
Where'er  my  footsteps  roam, 

If  those  I  love  are  near  to  me, 
I  feel  that  spot  my  home. 


CHOICE   OF   HOURS, 

FATHER. 

I  LOVE  to  walk  at  twilight 
When  sunset  nobly  dies, 
And  see  the  parting  splendor 
That  lightens  up  the  skies, 
And-call  up  old  remembrances 
Deep,  dim  as  evening  gloom, 
Or  look  to  heaven's  promises, 
Like  starlight  on  a  tomb. 

LAURA. 

I  love  the  hour  of  darkness, 

When  I  give  myself  to  sleep, 
And  I  think  that  holy  angels 

Their  watch  around  me  keep. 
My  dreams  are  light  and  happy, 

As  I  innocently  lie, 
For  my  mother's  kiss  is  on  my  cheek, 

And  my  father's  step  is  nigh. 

MARY. 
I  love  the  social  afternoon, 

When  lessons  all  are  said, 
Geography  is  laid  aside, 

And  grammar  put  to  bed  ; 
Then  a  walk  upon  the  .battery 

With  a  friend  is  very  sweet, 
And  some  money  for  an  ice  cream 

To  give  that  friend  a  treat. 

MOTHER. 

I  love  the  Sabbath  evening 

When  my  dear  ones  sit  around, 


26 


POEMS  FOR   CHILDREN 


And  tell  of  all  their  feelings 
By  hope  and  fancy  crowned  ; 

And  though  some  plants  are  missing, 
In  that  sweetly  thoughtful  hour, 

I  will  not  call  them  back  again 
To  earth's  decaying  bower. 


CHOICE   OF  PAINTINGS. 

WILLIAM. 

I   CHOOSE  the  racked  Ixion, 
With  his  fierce  and  burning  pain ; 
I  love  to  see  the  pencil's  touch      • 
Such  awful  mastery  gain. 

LADY. 
Yet  let  the  thrilling  punishment 

Its  moral  truth  inspire, 
And  keep  your  spirit  pure,  my  son, 

Untouched  by  base  desire. 

LITTLE  ELIZA. 
I'll  take  the  watermelon, 

With  seeds  so  black  and  nice, 
And  give  my  little  playmates, 

All  round,  a  famous  slice. 
But  oh  !  'tis  but  a  picture, 

And  on  a  summer's  day, 
If  they  would  not  let  me  eat  it. 

I  would  wish  it  far  away. 

HENRY. 
Give  me  the  brave  Napoleon, 

With  his  war  steed  thundering  by, 
Where  the  snowy  Alps  majestical, 

Look  upward  to  the  sky. 

LADY. 
Oh  !   boy,  that  conqueror  leaped  o'er 

hearts, 
With  reckless  cravings  too, 


While  his  own  was  cold  and  tempest- 
stirred, 
As  the  mountain  scene  you  view. 

LITTLE  JOHN.   . 

I  choose  the  views  of  Liliput, 
Where  the  tiny  people  play, 

Looking  with  great  astonishment, 
At  birds  more  large  than  they. 

While  two  of  them  with  all  their  might, 

Attempt  an  egg  to  roll ; 
And  some  are  diving,  quite  alarmed, 

Within  a  little  bowL 

GEORGE. 
Oh  !  give  me  Ariadne, 

With  her  soft  and  dewy  eye, 
Her  lip  of  glowing  coral, 

And  her  forehead  fair  and  high. 
I  feel  th'  ^Egean  breezes, 

As  they  fan  her  braided  hair, 
And  cool  her  chastened  beauties, 

Nor  leave  a  dark  tinge  there. 

MARIA. 
I  love  the  finished  manliness, 

That  dwells  on  Bacchus'  brow-  - 
Where  Earth  and  Inspiration, 

Seem  boldly  mingling  now. 
The  sunny  hue  of  India 

Glows  burning  on  his  cheek, 
And  lights  those  lips  so  eloquent, 

That  ask  not  words  to  speak. 

LADY. 
Yes !  o'er  the  form  that  Guido  limned 

Our  eyes  enraptured  stray, 
And  thrill  with  sudden  joyousness, 

As  if  'twere  new  to-day. 


OF  ALL   AGES. 


Fine  chain  of  soul-formed  sympathy, 

Electrical  and  strong, 
Which,  touched  with  by-gone  intellect, 

Through  time  is  borne  along. 

I  bless  you,  bright  creations 

Of  painting's  magic  art, 
Where  classic  dreams  of  poetry 

In  local  beauty  start. 
Ye  raise  our  cramped  and  earth-bound 
souls 

To  his  creative  power, 
Whose  sacred  touch  omnipotent 

Gives  genius  its  high  power. 


CHOICE   OF   OCCUPATIONS. 
JOHN. 

I   MEAN  to  be  a  soldier, 
With  uniform  quite  new ; 
I  wish  they  'd  let  me  have  a  drum, 

And  be  a  captain  too  ; 
I  would  go  amid  the  battle 

With  my  broadsword  in  my  hand, 
And  hear  the  cannon  rattle, 
And  the  music  all  so  grand. 

MOTHER. 
My  son,  my  son  !  what  if  that  sword 

Should  strike  a  noble  heart, 
And  bid  some  loving  father 

From  his  little  ones  depart ! 

LOUISA. 

I  mean  to  be  a  cottage  girl, 
And  sit  beside  a  rill, 


And  morn  and  eve  my  pitcher  there 

With  purest  water  fill ; 
And  I'll  train  a  lovely  woodbine 

Around  my  cottage  door, 
And  welcome  to  my  winter  hearth 

The  wandering  and  the  poor. 

MOTHER. 

Louisa,  dear,  an  humble  mind 

'Tis  beautiful  to  see, 
And  you  shall  never  hear  a  word, 

To  check  that  mind  from  me  : 
But  ah '•!  remember,  pride  may  dwell 

Beneath  the  woodbine's  shade ; 
And  discontent,,  a  sullen  guest, 

The  cottage  hearth  invade. 

CAROLINE. 
I  will  be  gay  and  courtly, 

And  dance  away  the  hours  ; 
Music,  and  sport,  and  joy  shall  dwell 

Beneath  my  fairy  bowers ; 
No  heart  shall  ache  with  sadness 

Within  my  laughing  hall, 
But  the  note  of  love  and  gladness 

Re-echo  to  my  call. 

MOTHER. 

O,  children,  sad  it  makes  my  soul 

To  hear  your  playful  strain ; 
I  cannot  bear  to  chill  your  youth 

With  images  of  pain. 
Yet  humbly  take  what  God  bestows, 

And  like  his  own  fair  flowers, 
Look  up  in  sunshine  with  a  smile, 

And  gently  bend  in  showers. 


28 


POEMS  FOR   CHILDREN 


THE   DUMB   LUNATIC. 

FROM  amid  the  crowd  what  unhal- 
lowed tone,  — 

AVhat  voice  in  misery  cried  ? 
It  seemed  like  nature's  lamenting  moan 
For  reason's  blessings  denied. 

Oh,  behold  that  face  with  its  pallid  hue, 
Like  snowflakes  at  twilight's  chime  ; 

And  that  eye  so  burning,  yet  rayless 

too, 
Like  the  moon  in  her  waning  time  ! 

And  the  youthful  form  that  with  early 

pain 

Has  withered  in  boyhood's  glow ; 
And  the  tongue  with  motion  so  quiet 

and  vain, 
And  restless  look  of  woe. 

In  anguish  beside  him  his  father  stands 
In  a  statelier  mood  of  grief; 

He  is  grasping  closely  those  thin  white 

hands, 
And  eagerly  asks  relie£ 

The  disciples  of  Jesus  cannot  bless  ; 

He  turns  in  anguish  away, 
And  a  smile  of  dark,  unbelieving  dis- 
tress 

Seems  o'er  his  closed  lips  to  stray. 

But,  behold !   the  Saviour  of  men  ap- 
pears ! 

A  thrill  to  his  chilled  heart  flies ; 
His  faith  contends  with  decaying  fears, 

And  the  warm  drops  fill  his  eyes. 

A  few  soothing  words  to  a  father's  woe 
Are  breathed  by  that  voice  of  power ; 


Sweet  as  the  flush  of  a  mountain's  flow, 
In  the  blaze  of  a  noontide  hour. 

A  higher  address  of  command  is  heard  ! 

Oh,  what  has  that  accent  done  ? 
It  has  banished  "  the  sickness  of  hope 
deferred," 

Has  restored  the  maniac  son. 


JAIRUS'  DAUGHTER. 

lEY  have  watched  her  last  and 
-L       quivering  breath, 
.    And  the  maiden's  soul  has  flown  ; 
They  have  wrapped  her  in  the  robes  of 

death, 
And  laid  her  dark  and  lone. 

But  the  mother  lingers  still  behind, 
And  weeps  for  that  fallen  flower. 

Nay,   start    not,  —  'twas    the    passing 

wind,  — 
Those  limbs  have  lost  their  power. 

And  tremble  not  at  that  cheek  of  snow, 
Over  which  the  faint  light  plays  ; 

'Tis  only  the  curtain's  crimson  glow 
Which  thus  deceives  thy  gaze. 

Didst  thou  not  close  that  expiring  eye, 
And  feel  the  slow  pulse  decay  ? 

And  did  not  thy  lips  receive  the  sigh 
That  bore  her  soul  away  ? 

She  lies  on   her  couch   all   pale  and 

hushed, 

And  heeds  not  thy  gentle  tread ; 
But  is  still  as  the  spring  flower  by  trav- 
eller crush'd, 
Which  dies  on  its  snowy  bed. 


OF  ALL  AGES. 


Her  mother  has  passed  from  that  lonely 
room, 

And  the  maid  is  still  and  pale ; 
Her  ivory  hand  is  as  cold  as  the  tomb, 

Which  soon  her  form  shall  veil. 

Her  mother  retires  with  folded  arms, 

No  tear  attempts  to  flow  ; 
Her  heart  is  shut  to  joys  or  harms, 

And  her  head  is  bent  in  woe. 

But  listen  !  what  name  salutes  her  ear  ? 

It  comes  to  a  heart  of  stone. 
"Jesus,"  she  cries,  "has  no  power  here, 

My  daughter's  soul  has  flown  !  " 


He  leads  the  way  to  that  cold  white 

couch, 

And  bends  o'er  that  senseless  form  ; 
She  breathes  !  she  breathes  !  at  his  hal- 
lowed touch 
The  maiden's  hand  is  warm. 

And  the   fresh   blood  shines  with  its 

roseate  hue, 
And  life  spreads  quick  through  her 

frame ; 

Her  head  is  raised  and  her  step  is  true, 
And  she  murmurs  her  mother's  name 


INVITATION   TO   A   BIRD. 

LITTLE  bird,  come, 
Quick  to  my  home. 
I'll  give  you  to  eat 
Everything  sweet ; 
Sugar  and  cake 
I'll  save  for  your  sake  ; 
Melon  and  plum 
You  shall  have  some. 


A  peach  and  a  pear, 
And  everything  rare ; 
Some  straw  for  your  nest, 
And  what  you  like  best, 
A  nice  little  house, 
As  snug  as  a  mouse. 
Come  away  from  the  tree 
And  live  here  with  me. 
I  will  give  you  a  brush 

To  smooth  down  each  feather. 
And  brother  will  hush 

While  we  sing  together. 
Come  away  from  the  tree, 
And  live  here  with  me. 


THE  LITTLE  BIRD'S  ANSWER. 

I   THANK  you,  my  dear, 
But  I'd  rather  live  here  : 
The  skies  they  are  fair 
And  I  love  the  fresh  air. 
The  trees  they  are  green, 
And  I  sit  like  a  queen, 
On  a  branch  as  it  goes, 
While  the  pleasant  wind  blows. 
I've  more  on  my  table 
To  eat  than  I'm  able, 
For  the  very  large  field 
My  dessert  does  yield  : 
But  come  from  your  book, 
With  a  good  humor 'd  look, 
When  with  care  you  have  read, 
And  your  lesson  is  said ; 
Sit  under  the  tree, 
With  your  sewing  by  me, 
And  this  afternoon, 
I'll  sing  you  a  tune. 


POEMS  FOR   CHILDREN 


NEW   YEAR'S   DAY. 

WAKE  and  see  the  morning  ray  — 
This  is  happy  New  Year's  day  ! 
View  your  toys  and  presents  gay, 
This  is  happy  New  Year's  day  ! 
Brother,,  sister,  come  and  play, 
This  is  happy  "New  Year's  day  ! 
Father,  mother,  hear  me  say, 
A  happy,  happy,  New  Year's  day ! 
Waiting  maids  ar  d  nurses  gray, 
To  you  a  happy  New  Year's  day  ! 
Friends  at  home,  and  friends  away. 
May  you  enjoy  your  New  Year's  day  ! 
And  while  I  laugh,  and  skip,  and  play, 
I'll  thank  God  for  the  New  Year's  day. 


H 


THE   SLEEPING   BABY. 
USII,  hush,  with  your  noise, 

What  a  talking  you  keep, 
You  rude  little  boys, 
Now  the  baby's  asleep  ! 

Hushaby,  baby. 

Mamma  has  just  told  me 

To  stay  quiet  here, 
And,  oh,  she  will  scold  me, 

If  wakes  baby  dear. 

Hushaby,  baby. 

How  soft  its  white  arm, 

As  it  lies  on  its  breast ! 
Little  baby,  no  harm 

Shall  come  here  while  you  rest. 

Hushaby,  baby. 

My  task  has  been  given, 
And  I  will  be  true, 


And  sister  and  Heaven 
Will  watch  over  you. 

Hushaby,  baby. 


FATHER  TAKES   ME   UP. 

I   LOVE  my  mother's  gentle  kiss, 
I  love  to  join  my  brother's  play, 
I  love  to  walk  with  little  sis, 

And  view  the  shops  and  pleasures  gay. 

I  love  my  toys  and  books  to  see, 
I  love  god-mother's  silver  cup, 

But  the  best  thing  of  things  to  me, 
Is  when  my  father  takes  me  up, 

Father,  when  I'm  as  tall  as  you, 
And  you  are  small  like  little  sis, 

I'll  lay  you  on  my  shoulder  too, 
And  let  you  feel  how  nice  it  is. 


THE   BOAT. 

OH,  see  my  little  boat, 
How  prettily  it  glides ; 
Like  a  bird  it  seems  to  float, 
Press'd  forward  by  the  tides  — 
By  the  tides. 

The  sky  is  shining  brightly, 

The  fishes  dart  below, 
While  my  little  boat  so  lightly 

Leaps  onward  as  I  row  — 

As  I  row. 

I  would  like  to  be  a  boat, 

And  live  upon  the  sea ; 
So  merrily  I'd  float, 

With  nought  to  trouble  me  — 
Trouble  me. 


OF  ALL  AGES. 


But  should  a  storm  come  near, 
And  fill  me  with  alarms, 

I  would  row  to  mother,  dear  — 
My  boat  should  be  her  arms  — 
Mother's  arms. 


POOR   WILLY. 

POOR  Willy,  in  play, 
I  am  sorry  to  say, 
His  head  did  hit ; 
To  his  mother  he  ran, 
Like  a  little  man, 

Not  minding  it. 
Then  she  rubb'd  it  well, 
And  a  story  did  tell, 

And  kis's'd  him  too ; 
Then  back  did  he  run, 
To  his  little  fun, 

And  so  must  you. 

INVITATION   TO   THE   ANT. 

COME  here,  little  ant, 
For  the  pretty  bird  can't. 
I  want  you  to  come, 
And  live  at  my  home ; 

I  know  you  will  stay, 
And  help  me  to  play. 
Stop  making  that  hill, 
Little  ant,  and  be  still. 

Come,  creep  to  my  feet, 
Here  is  sugar  to  eat. 
Say,  are  you  not  weary, 
My  poor  little  deary, 

With  bearing  that  load, 
Across  the  wide  road  ? 


Leave  your  hill  now,  to  me, 
And  then  you  shall  see, 

That  by  filling  my  hand, 
I  can  pile  up  the  sand, 
And  save  you  the  pains, 
Of  bringing  these  grains. 


THE   ANT'S   ANSWER. 

STOP,  stop,  little  miss, 
No  such  building  as  this 
Will  answer  for  me, 
As  you  plainly  can  see. 

I  take  very  great  pains, 
And  place  all  the  grains 
As  if  with  a  tool, 
By  a  carpenter's  rule. 

You  have  thrown  the  coarse  sand 
All  out  of  your  hand, 
And  so  fill'd  up  my  door, 
That  I  can't  find  it  more. 

My  King  and  my  Queen 
Are  choked  up  within ; 
My  little  ones  too, 
Oh,  what  shall  I  do  ? 

You  have  smother'd  them  all, 
With  the  sand  you  let  fall. 
I  must  borrow  or  begv 
Or  look  for  an  egg.* 


*  When  an  ant's  nest  is  disturbed,  there 
may  be  seen  processions  of  ants  bearing  little 
white  eggs,  for  more  than  a  day.  Ants  are 
divided  into  worker*,  fent'nels,  etc.,  like  bees, 
and  they  have  their  king  and  queen,  also. 


POEMS  FOR   CHILDREN 


To  keep  under  my  eye, 
For  help  by  and  by, 
A  new  house  I  must  raise, 
In  a  very  few  days, 

Nor  stand  here  and  pine, 
Because  you  've  spoilt  mine. 
For  when  winter  days  come, 
I  shall  mourn  for  my  home ; 

So  stand  out  of  my  way, 
I  have  no  time  to  play. 


WHO   IS   THIS   BOY? 

I  WILL  write  a  little  story 
About  a  little  boy ; 
He  is  his  father's  comfort, 
He  is  his  mother's  joy. 

When  we  give  a  little  errand, 
He  thinks  of  what  is  said, 

Pulls  down  his  little  waistcoat, 
And  holds  up  his  little  head. 

He  holds  his  little  fork 

By  the  handle,  as  he  should, 

And  never  spills  his  coffee, 
Nor  drops  about  his  food. 

His  face  is  very  pleasant, 
What  he  says  is  always  true  ; 

Now,  tell  me,  youngest  reader, 
If  this  little  boy  is  you. 


NANCY   RAY. 

MY  bird  is  dead, 
Said  Nancy  Ray ; 
My  bird  is  dead, 
1  cannot  play. 


He  sang  so  sweetly 

Every  day ; 
He  sings  no  more, 

I  cannot  play. 

Go  put  his  cage 
Far,  far  a%vay ; 

I  do  not  love 
His  cage  to-day. 

She  wiped  her  eyes, 
Poor  Nancy  Ray ! 

And  sat  and  sighed, 
But  could  not  play. 


"JESUS    TOOK    LITTLE    CHIL- 
DREN  IN   HIS   ARMS." 
I  WILL  go  to  Jesus  now, 
His  arms  are  open  still  for  youth, 
He  will  hear  my  early  vow, 
He  will  lead  my  heart  to  truth. 

When  I  wake  with  morning  light, 
I  will  seek  His  blessed  voice, 

And  when  fall  the  shades  of  night, 
He  shall  be  my  happy  choice. 

He  will  teach  me  how  to  pray, 
He  will  teach  me  what  to  do ; 

How  to  pass  a  holy  day, 

How  to  keep  my  God  in  view. 

When  my  heart  is  faint  and  weak, 
And  some  foolish  fear  alarms, 

I  my  Saviour's  word  will  seek, 
He  will  hold  me  in  his  arms. 

When  a  sinful  thought  comes  by, 
Or  angry  passions  move  my  breast,' 


THE  YOUNGEST  ONE.  — Page  33. 


OF  ALL  AGES. 


33 


I  will  bid  the  tempier  fly; 
In  His  arms  again  I'll  rest. 

Then  happy  will  the  moment  prove, 
When   God  shall    call    me    up    to 
Heaven, 

When  Jesus  folds  me  in  his  love, 
And  faults  repented  are  forgiven. 


THE  YOUNGEST   ONE. 

I    SAW  a  mother  with  her  child, 
And  each  with  each  appeared  be- 
guil'd ; 

So  tenderly  they  spake  and  smil'd, 
I  knew  it  was  her  youngest  one. 

She  lean'd  upon  her  mother's  knee, 
With  look  half  tender  and  half  free, 
And  oh,  by  that  sweet  liberty, 
I  knew  it  was  her  youngest  one. 

A  whisper  came  with  love  o'erfraught, 
Soon    was     returned     the    whispered 

thought, 
As   though   in   this   wide  world   were 

nought 
But  her  and  her  dear  youngest  one. 

"  Mother,"  she  said,  "  you  must  not  go 
And  leave  your  little  girl,  you  know, 
Because  no  other  loves  you  so, 

Like  me,  your  darling  youngest  one." 

I  heard  a  promise  and  a  kiss, 
I  saw  a  smile  of  trusting  bliss, 
Oh,  nought  can  sever,  after  this, 
The  mother  and  her  youngest  one. 

3 


TO  A  BUTTERFLY  AT  CHURCH. 

T)  UTTERFLY,  butterfly  why  come 
-D     here  ? 

This  is  no  bower  for  you ; 
Go  sip  the  honeydrop  sweet  and  clear, 

Or  bathe  in  the  morning  dew. 

This  is  the  place  to  think  of  Heaven, 

This  is  the  place  to  pray ; 
You  have  no  sins  to  be  forgiven,  — 

Butterfly,  go  away. 

I  see  God  has  touched  you  with  beauti- 
ful dyes, 
And  your  motion    is   graceful   and 

light, 
But  the  heart  is  the  thing  open  now  to 

His  eyes ; 
The  heart  must  be  pure  in  His  sight. 

He  has  made  us  to  love  what  is  airy 

and  gay, 
And  I  will  not  despise  your  bright 

wings ; 
But  I  must  not  be  thinking  about  you 

to-day,  — 
It  was  given  for  holier  things. 


MOTHER,   WHAT   IS   DEATH? 

MOTHER,    how    still    the    baby 
lies ! 

I  cannot  hear  his  breath  ; 
I  cannot  see  his  laughing  eyes, — 
They  tell  me  this  is  death. 

"  My  little  work  I  thought  to  bring, 

And  sit  down  by  his  bed, 
And  pleasantly  I  tried  to  sing,  — 

They  hushed  me,  —  he  is  dead. 


34 


POEMS  FOR   CHILDREN 


"  They  say  that  he  again  will  rise, 
More  beautiful  than  now,  — 

That  God  will  bless  him  in  the  skies,  — 
Oh,  mother,  tell  me  how  !  " 

"  Daughter,  do  you  remember  dear, 
The  cold  dark  thing  you  brought, 

And  laid  upon  the  casement  here,  — 
A  wither'd  worm  you  thought  ? 

"  I  told  you  that  Almighty  power 
Could  break  that  wither'd  shell, 

And  show  you,  in  a  future  hour, 
Something  would  please  you  well. 

"  Look  at  the  chrysalis,  my.  love,  — 

An  empty  shell  it  lies  ; 
Now  raise  your  wandering    thoughts 
above, 

To  where  yon  insect  flies  ! " 

"  Oh,  yes,  mamma,  how  very  gay 

Its  wings  of  starry  gold, — - 
And  see  !  it  lightly  flies  away 

Beyond  my  gentle  hold. 

"  Oh,  mother,  now  I  know  full  well, 
If  God  that  worm  can  change, 

And  draw  it  from  its  broken  cell, 
On  golden  wings  to  range  ; 

"  How  beautiful  will  brother  be, 
When  God  shall  give  him  wings, 

Above  this  dying  world  to  flee, 
And  live  with  heavenly  things." 


I 


WISHES. 

ANNA. 

WISH  I  was  a  small  bird, 
Among  the  leaves  to  dwell, 


To  scale  the  sky  in  gladness, 

Or  seek  the  lonely  dell. 
My  matin  song  should  wake  amid 

The  chorus  of  the  earth, 
And  my  vesper  hymn  ring  gladly 

The  trill  of  careless  mirth. 

KLLEN. 
I  wish  I  was  a  floweret, 

To  blossom  in  the  grove, 
I'd  spread  my  opening  leaflets 

Among  the  plants  I  love. 
No  hand  would  roughly  cull  me, 

As  I  looked  up  to  the  sky ; 
I  silently  should  ope  to  life, 

And  quietly  should  die. 

MARY. 
I  wish  I  was  a  goldfish, 

To  seek  the  sunny  wave, 
To  part  the  gentle  ripple, 

And  amid  its  coolness  lave. 
I  would  glide  along  delighted 

Amid  the  coral  way, 
And  when  night  came  on  in  softness 

Beneath  the  starbeam  play. 

MOTHER. 

Hush,  hush,  rojnantic  prattlers, 

You  know  not  what  you  say, 
When  soul,  the  crown  of  mortals, 

You  would  lightly  throw  away. 
What  is  the  songster's  warble, 

Or  the  floweret's  blush  refin'd 
To  the  noble  thought  of  Deity 

Within  your  opening  mind  ? 


OF  ALL   AGES. 


35 


JEPHTHAH'S   RASH  VOW. 

JUDGES  XI. 

THE  battle  had  ceased  and  the  vic- 
tory was  won, 

The  wild  cry  of  horror  was  o'er  — 
Now  rose  in  his  glory  .the  bright  beam- 
ing sun, 
And  with  him  his  journey  the  war  chief 

begun, 

With  a  soul  breathing  vengeance  no 
more. 

The  foes  of  his  country  lay  strewed  on 

the  plain, 

A  tear  stole  its  course  to  his  eye, 
But  the  warrior  disdained  every  sem- 
blance of  pain, 
He  thought  of  his  child,  of  his  country 

again, 

And  suppressed,  while  'twas  forming, 
a  sigh. 

"  Oh  !  Father  of  Light ! "  said  the  con- 
quering chief, 

"  The  vow  which  I  made,  I  renew ; 
'Twas  thy  powerful  arm  gave  the  wel- 
come relie  f, 

When  I  called  on  thy  name  in  the  ful- 
ness of  grief, 

And  my  hopes   were  but  cheerless 
and  few. 

"  An  offering  of  love  will  I  pay  at  thy 

fane, 

An  offering  thou  canst  not  despise  ; 
The  first  being  I  meet,  when  I  welcome 

again 


The  land  of  my  fathers  I  left  not  in 

vain, 

With  the  flames  on  thy  altar  shall 
rise." 

Now  hushed  were  his  words, —  through 

the  far- spreading  bands, 
Naught  was  heard  but  the  foot-fall 
around, 

Till  his  feet  in  glad  tread  press  his  own 
native  lands, 

And  to  heaven  are  uplifted  his  con- 
quering hands ; 

Not  a  voice  breaks  the  silence  pro- 
found. 

Oh,  listen  !  at  distance,  what  harmonies 

sound, 

And  at   distance  what  maiden   ap- 
pears ? 

See,  forward  she  conies  with  a  light 
springing  bound, 

And  casts  her  mild  eye  in  fond  ecstasy 

round, 

For  her  parent  is  seen  through  hei 
tears ! 

Her  harp's  wildest  chord  gives  a  strain 

of  delight ; 

A  moment  —  she  springs  to  his  arms  ! 
"  My  daughter  ?  Oh  God  !  "  —  not  the 

horrors  of  fight, 
While  legion  on    legion   against   him 

unite, 
Could  bring  to  his  soul  such  alarms. 

In  horror  he  starts,  as  a  fiend  had  ap- 
peared, 
His  eyes  in  mute  agony  close. 


rOEMS  FOR  CHILDREN 


His  sword  o'er  his  age-frosted  forehead 

is  reared, 
Which  with  scars  from  his  many-fought 

battles  is  seared, — 
Nor  country  nor  daughter  he  knows. 

But  sudden  conviction  in  quick  flashes 

told, 

That  his  daughter  was  destined  to  die; 
No  longer  could  nature  the  hard  strug- 
gle hold, 

His  grief  issued  forth  unrestrained,  un- 
controlled, 

And  glazed  was  his  time-shrunken 
eye. 

His  daughter  is  kneeling,  and  clasping 

that  form, 
She  ne'er  touched  but  with  transport 

before ; 

His  daughter  is  watching  the  thunder- 
ing storm, 
'Whose    quick    flashing    lightnings   so 

madly  deform 
A  face  beaming  sunshine  no  more. 

But  how  did  that  daughter,  so  gentle 

and  fair, 
Hear  the  sentence  that  doomed  her 

to  die  ? 
For  a  moment  was  heard  a  shrill  cry  of 

despair — 

For  a  moment  her  eye  gave  a  heart- 
moving  glare  — 
For  a  moment  her  bosom  heaved  high. 

It  was  but  a  moment —  the  frenzy  was 

past, 
She  trustingly  rushed  to  his  arms, 


And  there,  as  a  flower  when  chilled  by 

the  blast, 
Reclines  on  an  oak  while  its  fury  may 

last, 
On  his  bosom  she  hushed  her  alarms. 

Not  an  eye   saw   the   scene   but  was 

moistened  in  woe, 

Not  a  voice  could  a  sentence  com- 
mand ; 
Down  the  soldier's  rough  cheek  tears 

of  agony  flow, 
The  sobs  of  the  maiden  rose  mournful 

and  low, 
Sad  pity  wept  over  the  band. 

But  fled  was  the  hope  in  the  fair  maid- 
en's breast, 
From  her  father's   fond  bosom  she 

rose ; 

Stern  virtue  appeared  in  a  manner  con- 
fessed, 
She  looked  like  a  saint  from  the  realms 

of  the  blessed, 
Not  a  mortal  encircled  with  woes. 

She  turned  from  the  group,  and  can  I 

declare 

The  hope  and  the  fortitude  given, 
As  she  sunk  on  her  knees  with  a  soul- 
breathing  prayer, 
That  her  father  might  flourish  of  angels 

the  care, 

Till    with    glory    he    blossomed    in 
Heaven  ? 

Oh,  comfort  him,  Heaven,  when  low  in 

the  dust 
My  limbs  arc  inactively  laid  ! 


OF  ALL  AGES. 


37 


Oh,  comfort  him,  Heaven,  and  let  him 

then  trust, 
That  free  and   immortal  the  souls  of 

the  just, 
Are  in  beauty  and  glory  arrayed ! " 

The  maiden  arose,  oh,  I  cannot  portray 

The  devotion  that  glowed  in  her  eye  ; 

Religion's  sweet  self  in  its  light  seemed 

to  play, 
With  the  mildness  of  night,  with  the 

glory  of  day  — 
But  'twas  pity  that  prompted  her  sigh. 

"  My  father  !  "  the  chief  raised  his  agon- 
ized head, 

With  a  gesture  of  settled  despair  — 
"  My  father !  "  —  thte  words  she  would 

utter  had  fled, 
But  the  sobs  that  she  heaved,  and  the 

tears  that  she  shed, 
Told  more  than  those  words  could 
declare. 

That  weakness  past  o'er,  and  the  maid- 
en could  say, 
"  My  father  for  thee  I  can  die." 

The  bands  slowly  moved  on  their  sor- 
rowful way, 

But  never  again  from  that  heart-break- 
ing day, 

Was  a  smile  known  to  force  its  enliv- 
ening ray 

On  the  old  chieftain's  grief-stricken 
eye. 


THOUGHTS   ON  ZERLINA 
THORN. 

DROWNED    AT   TRENTON    FALLS,    1836. 

AND  art  thou   gone,  fair,  graceful 
child  ? 
I  dreamed  not  'mid  this  cataract  wild 

Thy  form  would  lie, 
When,  like  a  bright  and  budding  flower, 
I  met  thee  in  a  summer  bower,  — 
Life  in  thine  eye. 

I  saw  thee  in  the  airy  dance, 

With  floating  step  and  kindling  glance, 

With  happy  brow. 
A  brother's  arm  around  thee  clung, 
A  parent's  smile  upon  thee  hung,  — 

Where  art  thou  now  ? 

Oh,  cold  and  dark  must  be  thy  grave, 
Love-nurtured  one  !  —  the  dashing  wave 

Rocks  thy  death  sleep ; 
And  o'er  thy  glazed  and  unclosed  eye, 
The  high-heaved  cliffs  all  frowningly 

Their  vigils  keep. 

But  why  repine,  though  summer  dews 
And  flowers  of  soft  and  blended  hues 

Deck  not  thy  sod  ? 
Thy  spirit  from  the  wave  upsprings, 
Scatters  the  white  foam  from  its  wings, 

And  soars  to  God. 

ON    THE  CHRISTENING  OF  A 
LITTLE   CHILD. 

THE  man  of  God  stood  there, 
His  spirit  bowed  in  prayer 
Above  the  child ; 


POEMS  FOR   CHILDREN 


And  she,  with  wondering  eye, 
Gazed  on  him  earnestly, 
Then  brightly  smiled. 

Oh,  sweet,  devoted  one, 
With  journey  just  begun 

In  life's  rough  day, 
What  path  soe'er  thou  see, 
May  hovering  prayer  for  thee 

Still  light  thy  way. 

TO  . 

ON  life's  eventful  sea 
May  thy  light  bark  gently  glide, 
And  the  true  wind  blowing  free, 
Swell  on  the  prosperous  tide. 

But  should  wild  storms  arise, 

And  waves  in  fury  roll, 
Look  up  to  God's  far  skies. 

Anchor  on  him  thy  souL 

THE  MYSTERIOUS  CHAIR; 

OR,  TWO  O'CLOCK  AT  NIGHT. 

[A  Letter  to  a  Friend.] 

DEAR  John,   As  you  know  all  our 
household  affairs, 

From  the  cellar  beneath  to  the  attic  up- 
stairs, 

I  am  anxious  to  write  of  a  recent  tran- 
saction, . 

Which  you  may  resolve  to  your  own 
satisfaction. 

Last  night,  in  the  room  where  the  silver 
is  kept, 

And  wherein  the  old  lady  and  gentle- 
man slept, 


They  were  woke  on  a  sudden  by  singu- 
lar sounds, 

For  which  they  could  fancy  no  plausible 
grounds. 

The  noise  issued  forth  from  the  large 

rocking-chair,  — 
Which,  distinctly  and  loudly,  as  tongue 

can  declare, 
Roll'd  backwards  and  forwards  full  six 

or  eight  times, 
As  St.  Michael's  resounded  the  two- 

o'-clock  chimes. 

The  old  gentleman  rose  and  explored 
the  whole  room, 

For  a  dim-twinkling  light  still  pervaded 
the  gloom ; 

He  looked  under  the  bed,  'and  exam- 
ined with  care,  , 

In  a  very  particular  manner,  the  chair. 

But    no    living    being   was    anywhere 

found,  — 
The  doors  were  both  clos'd,  —  silence 

brooded  around. 
The  mysterious  chair  was  as  quiet  as 

hush! 
And  the  window  was  up  but  the  height 

of  a  brush. 

You  may  say  'twas  by  fancy  this  whole 

thing  was  done, 
And  so  should  /  think,  were  it  heard 

but  by  one  ; 
Yet,  as  two  were  awoke  by,  and  two 

heard  that  rocking, 
It  is  not  a  subject  for  doubt,  sir,  or 

.mocking. 


OF  ALL    AGES. 


39 


From  that  moment  till  daybreak,  the 

honored  old  pair 
Were  absorb'd  in  conjectures    about 

this  affair ; 
Not  a  wink  of  sweet  slumber   could 

visit  their  eyes, 
And  they  rose  half  an  hour  ere  they 

usually  rise. 

At  breakfast  we  saw  something  weighed 

on  their  minds,  — 
For,  when  dear  ones  are  troubled,  how 

quickly  love  finds  ? 
They  were  silent    and    pensive,    and 

heaved  a  few  sighs, 
Till  we  searched  out  the  source,  and 

drew  forth  their  replies. 

When  the  matter  was  known,  all  of 
course  felt  amazed, 

Our  coffee  was  slighted,  our  eyes  were 
upraised, 

Neglected,  the  spoons  in  our  hominy 
stood, 

And  the  waffles  remained  like  unpop- 
ular food. 

But  at  length,  when  our  silent  aston- 
ishment ceased, 

Speculation,  and  talking,  and  guessing 
increased ; 

Every  tongue  in  the  group  had  a  reason 
to  spare 

For  the  wonderful  feat  of  the  rocking 
arm-chair. 

Louisa  presumed  that  an  earthquake 

had  passed, 
And  had  caused  it  to  vibrate  so  loud 

and  so  fast 


But  how  could  that  happen,  when  noth- 
ing fell  down 

In  the  rest  of  the  house,  or  the  rest  of 
the  town  ? 

Miss  Carry  was  certain  it  must  be  a 
thief, 

Who  had  come  for  the  silver,  and  van- 
ished so  brief; 

But  the  doors  and  the  chimney-board 
all  remained  tight, 

And  no  man  could  escape  through  that 
window  by  flight. 

Little  Nannie  was  sure  'twas  a  ghost, 

for  her  nurse 
Had  often  informed  her  of  such  things 

and  worse ; 
But  we  asked  how  a  shade,  without  body 

or  weight, 
Such  material  rockings  and  noise  could 

create. 

Eliza  believed  that  the  chair,  of  itself, 
Fell  to  moving  without  either  spirit  or 

elf: 
But,  if  so,  Dame  Nature  has  altered 

her  laws, 
And  effects  must  take   place   without 

impulse  or  cause. 

Old  Nan,  who  stood  solemnly  brushing 

the  flies, 
Being  asked  her  opinion,  slow  raised 

her  black  eyes ; 
She  could  not  guess  the  cause,  but  full 

sartin  was  she 
That  old  massa  or  missis  some  sorrow 

must  see. 


40 


POEMS  FOR   CHILDREN 


At  last  the  whole  family  turned  to  your 

friend, 
And  begged  I  would  try  their  dilemma 

to  end ; 
I  had  heard  all  their  reasons ;  I  had, 

too,  my  own, 
Which  with   proper    humility   thus   I 

made  known. 

To  me  it  appeared  that  the  source  of 

dismay 
Must  have  been  a  large  cat,  who  was 

prowling  for  prey ; 
In  the  half-open  window  with  ease  she 

might  pass, 
Without  forcing  the  sash,  or  disturbing 

the  glass. 

I  presumed  she  had  velvetly  entered 

the  house, 
And  had  searched  round  the  room  for  a 

rat  or  a  mouse  ; 
Sprung  up  on  the  table,  leaped  down 

on  the  chair, 
Which  of  course  began  rocking  with 

violent  air. 

Puss,  probably  frightened,  at  least  much 

surprised. 
Darted  quick  through  the  window,  for 

so  I  surmised, 
Stole  along  the  piazza,  jumped  off  on 

the  ground, 
Then  forgot  what  had  passed,  and  went 

still  prowling  around. 

As  I  ceased  from  explaining,  I  saw 
every  eye 

Grow  brighter  with  smiles,  and  the  dis- 
mals lay  by ; 


Our  sensitive  appetites  quickened  once 

more, 
And  justice  was  done  to  the  tables' 

rich  store. 

Thus  we  all  think  the  problem  resolved 

by  a  cat, 
And  persuaded  we   feel,  if  the  cause 

were  not  that, 
The  invisible  agent  who  haunted  that 

room, 
Must  never  be  known  till  the  bursting 

of  doom. 

SAMUEL  OILMAN, 

Charleston,  S.  C.,  Sept.,  1837. 


FLIGHT  OF  THE  MUSKOGEE 
INDIAN. 

ON  the  shore  of  Carolina  an  Indian 
warrior  stood, 

A  captive  of  the  Shawnees,  and  red- 
dened with  their  blood ; 
Strange  arts  of  varied  torture  his  con- 
querors tried  in  vain, 
Like  a  rock  that  stands  the  billows,  he 
dashed  them  off  again. 

He  shouted,  and  the  echo  shrill  returned 

the  lengthened  shriek, 
I  have  rent  you  as  the  eagle  rends  the 

dove  within  his  beak, 
And  ye  give  me  women's  tortures;  see, 

I  lightly  cast  them  by, 
As  the  spirit  of  the  storm-cloud  throws 

the  vapor  from  the  sky. 


OF  ALL    AGES. 


"  Ye  are  women  !  "  the  wild  echo  came 

wilder  on  the  air  — 
"/  will  show  a  worthy  trial  for  a  Mus- 

kogee  to  bear ; 
Let  me  grasp  a  heated  gun  in  this  raw 

and  bloody  hand, 
And  ye  shall  not  see  an  eyelash  move 

to  shame  my  father-land." 

They  gave  the  glowing  steel.  He  took 
it  with  a  smile, 

And  held  it  as  a  plaything ;  —  they  stood 
in  awe  the  while  ; 

Then,  springing  like  an  antelope,  he 
brandished  it  around, 

And  toward  the  beetling  eminence*  up- 
started with  a  bound. 

One  leap,  and  he  is  o'er  !  fierce  dashing 

through  the  stream, 
And  his  massy  form  lies  floating  'neath 

the  clear  and  sunny  beam  ; 
A  hundred  arrows  sped  at  once,  but 

missed  that  warrior  bold, 
And  his  mangled  arms,  ere  set  of  sun, 

his  little  ones  enfold. 

MAIDEN  AND  THE  MARINER. 

THE  toilet  task  was  o'er ; 
The  satin   slipper   clasped    the 
modelled  foot, 
The  white  glove  rested  on  the  snowy 

arm, 

While  Ella's  heart  beat  lightly;  light 
her  tread 

*  A  bluff  near  Augusta,  ninety  feet  high. 


As  down  the  steps  with  airy  grace  she 

sprang 
To  greet  the  neighboring  ball-room's 

fairy  scene, 
Then  bounded  towards  her  carriage  — 

and  her  laugh 
Went  ringing  like  a  happy  waterfall 

Bursting  from  summer  hills. 

She  nears  the  blaze 

Of  the  saloon  where  sylph-like  move- 
ments wait 

On  music,  as  an  echo  on  its  sound, 

Where  eyes  like  midnight  stars  shine 
joyously 

From  out  the  firmament  of  heart  and 
mind. 

The  carriage  stops.  Hark,  a  low  plain- 
tive voice  !  — 

" Pity,"  it  said,  "the  shipwrecked  mar- 
iner, 

Who  has  no  friend,  no  country,  and  no 
home." 

"  Back,  fellow,''  one  exclaimed,  "  away, 
away ! " 

The  vagrant  was  thrust  off.  With  flow- 
ing robes 

White  as  the  garb  a  new-made  spirit 
wears, 

Fair  Ella  glided  by.  Again  that  voice  ! 

She  paused.  A  shade  came  o'er  her 
sunny  brow, 

Soft  as  moon's  vapor  on  a  silver  stream. 

"  That  voice  of  woe  will  haunt  my 
thoughts,"  she  said, 

"  Will  mingle  with  the  dance  discord- 
antly, 


POEMS  FOR   CHILDREN 


Should    I    still   coldly  turn   mine   ear 

away; 

And  our  dear  William  is  a  sailor,  too ! 
What  if  he  need  a  pitying  stranger's  aid, 
Yon  rebel  from  our  hearth  ?     God  bless 

the  boy ! " 
And  here  she  heaved  a  sister's  natural 

sigh, 

And  turning  to  the  mariner,  she  asked, 
"  Stranger,  what  wouldst  thou  ?    Can  I 

aid  thy  need  ? " 
Bright  fell  the  light  upon  the  seaman's 

coarse 
And  tattered  garments.      Brightly,  too, 

it  shone 
On  Ella's  flower-wreathed   brow    and 

graceful  form. 
He  paused.     Ripe  for  the  witcheries  of 

the  dance, 
E'en  though  her  heart  was  touched  with 

sympathy, 
The  maiden's  slippered  foot  kept  eager 

time 

To  the  loud  gush  of  harmony  that  filled 
The  new  saloon,  while  her  slight  ivory 

fan 

Tapped  on  her  open  palm  impatiently. 
Nearer  the   seaworn  veteran  pressed, 

and  crossed 
His  hands  upon  his  threadbare  cloak 

and  bowed. 

A  moment     Back  he  throws  the  rag- 
ged robe, 
And  lo,  a  manly  form  in  youth's  fresh 

glow, 

And  laughing  eyes  beneath  the  cluster- 
ing curls 


That   hang  in  ripened  fulness  o'er  his 

brow. 
Tis  William,  the  gay  wanderer !   and 

he  clasps 
The  youthful  Ella  to  his  brother  heart. 


THE   CHILD    ON  THE   OCEAN. 

4 '  A  /[OTHER,  how  small  a   thing 
1V1      am  I, 

Rocked  on  the  restless  sea  ! 
I  ask,  when  gazing  on  the  sky, 

Can  God  remember  me  ? 
How  solemnly  the  stars  appear 

Upon  the  broad  blue  deep ! 
Their  mighty  songs  I  seem  to  hear 

As  they  their  vigils  keep. 

"  How  beautiful  the  moon  to  see 

Walk  proudly  through  the  night, 
Unshadowed  by  a  single  tree 

To  mar  her  queenly  light ! 
How  brilliant  is  the  track  we  mark, 

As  leaps  our  vessel  on,  — 
A  rival  light  that  cheers  the  dark 

When  stars  and  moon  are  gone  ! 
Mother,  I  am  a  feeble  thing, 

'Mid  scenes  so  vast  and  bold." 
"  My  child,  your  thoughts  can  o'er  them 
spring, 

Your  mind  they  cannot  hold." 

SEVENTEEN. 

IN  childhood,  when  my  girlish  view, 
Glanced  over  life's  unfading  green, 
Thoughts  undefined,   and  bright   and 

new, 

Would  Wend  with  thee,  sweet  Sev- 
enteen. 


'OF  ALL  AGES. 


43 


Restrained  at  twelve  by  matron  care, 
My  walks  prescribed,  my  movements 
seen, 

How  bright  the  sun,  how  free  the  air, 
Seemed  circling  round  fair  seventeen ! 

Thirteen  arrived ;  but  still  my  book, 
My  dress,  were  watched  with  aspect 
keen, 

Scarce  on  a  novel  might  I  look, 
And  balls  —  must  wait  for  seventeen. 

Fourteen  allowed  the  evening  walk, 
Where  friendship's  eye  illumed  the 
scene ; 

The  long,  romantic  bosom  talk,  — 
That  talk  which  glanced  at  seventeen. 

The  next  revolving  circle  brought 
A  quicker  pulse,  yet  graver  mien ; 

I  read  and  practised,  studied,  thought, — 
For  what  ?    To  stop  at  seventeen. 

Sixteen  arrived  ;  that  witching  year 
When  youthful  hearts  like  buds  are 
seen, 

Ready  to  ope  when  first  appear 
The  genial  rays  of  seventeen. 

They  came ;  have  passed ;  think  not, 

fair  maids, 
My   hand     shall    draw   that    magic 

screen ; 

But  this  I  urge,  —  fill  well  your  heads, 
And  guard  your  hearts,  for  seventeen. 

JOSHUA'S  COURTSHIP. 

A  NEW-ENGLAND  BALLAD. 

STOUT  Joshua  was  a  farmer's  son, 
And  a  pondering  he  sat 


One  night,  when  the  faggots  crackling 

burned, 
And  purr'd  the  tabby  cat. 

Joshua  was  a  well-grown  youth, 

As  one  might  plainly  see 
By  the  sleeves  that  vainly  tried  to  reach 

His  hands  upon  his  knee. 

His  splay-feet  stood  all  parrot-toed 

In  cowhide  shoes  array'd ; 
And  his  hair  seem'd  cut  across  his  brow 

By  rule  and  plummet  laid. 

And  what  was  Joshua  pondering  on, 
With  his  widely-staring  eyes, 

And  his  no'strils  opening  sensibly 
To  ease  his  frequent  sighs  ? 

Not  often  will  a  lover's  lips 

The  tender  secret  tell, 
But  out  he  spoke,  before  he  thought, 

"  My  gracious  !  Nancy  Bell ! " 

His  mother  at  her  spinning-wheel, 
Good  woman,  stood  and  spun, 

« And  what,"  says  she,  "  's  come  over 

you  ? 
Is't  airnest,  or  is't  fun  ?  " 

Then  Joshua  gave  a  cunning  look, 
Half  bashful  and  half  sporting  ; 

"  Now,  what  did  father  do,"  says  he, 
"  When  first  he  came  a  courting  ?  " 

"  Why,  Josh,  the  first  thing  that  he  did," 
With  a  knowing  wink,  says  she, 

"  Was  to  come  dressed  up  of  a  Sunday 

night, 
And  cast  sheep's  eyes  *  at  me." 

*  Tender  glances. 


44 


POEAfS  FOR   CHILDREN 


Josh  said  no  more,  but  straight  went 

out, 

And  sought  a  butcher's  pen, 
Where  twelve  fat  sheep,  for  market 

bound, 
Had  lately  slaughtered  been. 

He  bargained  with  a  lover's  zeal, 
Obtained  the  wished-for  prize, 

And  filled  his  pockets  fore  and  aft 
With  twice  twelve  bloody  eyes. 

The  next  night  was  the  happy  time 
When  all  New-England  sparks, 

Drest  in  their  best  go  out  to  court 
As  spruce  and  gay  as  larks. 

When  floors  are  nicely  sanded  o'er, 
When  tins  and  pewter  shine, 

And  milk-pans  by  the  kitchen  wall 
Display  their  dainty  line ; 

While  the  new  ribbon  decks  the  waist 

Of  many  a  waiting  lass, 
Who  steals  a  conscious  look  of  pride 

Towards  her  answering  glass. 

In  pensive  mood  sat  Nancy  Bell ; 

Of  Joshua  thought  not  she, 
But  of  a  hearty  sailor  lad 

Across  the  distant  sea. 

Her  arm  upon  the  table  rests, 
Her  hand  supports  her  head, 

When  Joshua  enters  with  a  scrape, 
And  somewhat  bashful  tread. 

No  word  he  spake,  but  down  he  sat 

And  heav'd  a  doleful  sigh  ; 
Then  at  the  table  took  his  aim 

And  roll'd  a  glassy  eye. 


Another  and  another  flew 

With  quick  and  strong  rebound, 

They  tumbled  in  poor  Nancy's  lap, 
They  fell  upon  the  ground. 

While  Joshua  smirk'd,  and  sigh'd,  and 
smirk'd 

Between  each  tender  aim, 
And  still  the  cold  and  bloody  balls 

In  (rightful  quickness  came. 

Until  poor  Nancy  flew  with  screams 
To  shun  the  amorous  sport, 

And  Joshua  found  to  cast  sheep^s  eyes 
Was  not  the  way  to  court. 

MARY  ANNA  GIBBES,  of  STONO, 
Saved  a  boy's  life  during  the  Revolutionary 
War.  He  was  Col.  Fenwick,  afterwards 
distinguished  in  the  war  of  1812. 

STONO,  on  thy  still  banks 
The  roar  of  war  is  heard; 
its  thunders  swell 

And  shake  yon  mansion,  where  domes- 
tic love 

Till  now  breathed  simple  kindness  to 
the  heart ; 

Where  white-armed  childhood  twined 
the  neck  of  age, 

Where  hospitable  cares  lit  up  the 
hearth, 

Cheering  the  lonely  traveller  on  his  way. 

A  foe  inhabits  there,  and  they 
depart, 

The  infirm  old  man  and  his  fair  house- 
hold too, 

Seeking  another  home.  Home !  who 
can  tell 


OF  ALL  AGES. 


45 


The  touching  power  of  that  most  sa- 
cred word, 

Save  he  who  feels  and  weeps  that  he 
has  none  ? 

Among    that    group   of  midnight 

exiles  fled 
Young  Mary  Anna,  on  whose  youthful 

cheek 
But  thirteen  years  had  kindled  up  the 

rose. 
A  laughing    creature  breathing  heart 

and  love, 

Yet  timid  as  the  fawn  in  Southern  wilds. 
E'en  the  night  reptile  on  the  dewy  grass 
Startled  the  maiden,  and 'the  silent  stars 
Troubled  her  mind.  No  time  was  there 

for  gauds 
And  toilette  art  in  this  quick  flight  of 

fear. 

Her  glossy  hair,  damped  by  the  mid- 
night winds, 
Lay  on  her  neck  dishevelled ;  gathered 

round 
Her  form  in  hurried  folds  clung  her  few 

garments. 
Now  a  quick  thrilling  sob,  half  grief, 

half  dread, 
Came  bursting  from  her  heart,  —  and 

now  her  eyes 
Glared  forth  as  pealed  the  cannon  ;  then 

beneath 
Vheir  drooping  lids  sad  tears  redundant 

flowed. 

But  sudden,  mid  the  group,  a  cry 
arose  — 

Femvick  !  where  is  he  ? "     None  re- 
turned reply, 


But  a  sharp  piercing  glance  went  out, 

around, 
Keen  as  a  mother's  towards  her  infant 

child 
When  sudden  danger  lowers,  and  then 

a  shriek 
From  one,  from  all,  burst  forth,  —  "  He 

is  not  here  "  — 

Poor  boy  !  he  slept ;  nor  crash  of  hur- 
rying guns 
Nor  impious  curses,  nor  the  warrior's 

shout 
Awoke  his  balmy  rest !     He  dreamed 

such  dreams 
As  float  round   childhood's   couch  of 

angel  faces 
Peering     through     clouds,     of    sunny 

rivulets 
Where  the  fresh  stream  flows  rippling 

on,  to  waft 

A  tiny  sail  —  and  of  his  rabbits  white, 
With    eyes  of   ruby,   and    his   tender 

fawn's 
Long  delicate   limbs,   light  tread  and 

graceful  neck, 
He  slept  unconscious.  —  "  Who  shall 

wake  that  sleep  ?  " 
All  shrink,  for  now  th'  artillery  louder 

roars ;  — 
The  frightened  slaves  crouch  at  their 

master's  side, 

And  he,  infirm  and  feeble,  scarce  sus- 
tains 

His  sinking  weight. 

There  was  a  pause,  a  hush 
So  deep,  that  one  could  hear  the  forest 
leaves 


46 


POEMS  FOR   CHILDREN 


Flutter  and  drop  between  the  war  gun's 

peal. 
Then  forward  stood   that  girl,  young 

Mary  Anna, 
The  tear  dried  up  upon  her  cheek,  the 

sob 
Crushed  down,  and  in  that  high  and 

lofty  tone 
Which  sometimes  breathes  the  woman 

in  the  child, 
She  said,  "He  shall  not  die"  and  turned 

alone, 

Alone  ?  oh,  gentle  girlhood,  not  alone 
Art  thou  if.  ONE  watching  above  will 

guard 
Thee  on  thy  way.     Clouds  shrouded  up 

the  stars ; 
On,  on,  she  sped,  the  gun's  broad  glare 

her  beacon. 

The  wolf-growl  sounded  near,  —  on,  on- 
ward still ; 

The  forest  trees  like  warning  spirits 
moaned. 

She  pressed  her  hands  against  her 
throbbing  heart, 

But  faltered  not ;  the  whizzing  shot 
went  by, 

Scarce  heeded  went ;  passed  is  a  weary 
mile 

With  the  light  step  a  master  spirit  gives 

On  duty's  road.  But  she  has  reached 
her  home. 

Her  home  ?  Is  this  her  home  at  whose 
fair  gate 

Stern  foes  in  silence  stand  to  bar  her  way? 

That  gate,  which,  from  her  infant  child- 
hood, leaped 


On  its  wide  hinges,  glad  at  her  return  * 

Before     the    sentinels    she.   trembling 
stood, 

And,  with  a  voice  whose  low  and  ten- 
der tones 

Rose  like  the  ringdove's  in  midsummer 
storms, 

She  said,  — 
"  Please  let  me  pass  and  seek  a  child 

Who  in  my  father's  mansion  has  been 
left 

Sleeping,   unconscious   of   the   danger 
near." 

While  thus  she  spake,  a  smile  incredu- 
lous 

Stole  o'er  the  face  of  one ;  the  other 
cursed 

And  barred  her  from  the  way. 
"  O,  sirs,"  she  cried, — 

While  from  her  upraised  eyes  the  tears 
streamed  down, 

And  her  small  hands  were  clasped  in 
agony,  — 

"  Drive  me  not  hence,  I  pray  !     Until 
to-night 

I  dared  not  stray  beyond  my  nurse's 
side 

In  the  dim  twilight;  yet  I  now  have  come 

Alone,  unguarded,  this  far,  dreary  mile. 

By  darkness  unappallcd  ;  a  simple  worm 

Would  often  fright  my  heart  and  bid  it 
flutter ; 

But  now  I've  heard  the  wild  wolfs  hun- 
gry growl 

With  soul    undaunted,  —  till   to-night 
I've  shrunk 

From  men ;  and  soldiers  !  scarcely  dared 
I  look 


OF  ALL   AGES. 


47 


Upon  their  glittering  arms  ;  but  here  I 
come 

And  sue  to  you,  —  men,  warriors ;  drive 
me  not 

Away.    He  whom  'I  seek  is  yet  a  child, 

A  prattling  boy,  and  must  he,  must  he 
die? 

Oh,  if  you  love  your  children,  let  me 
pass ! 

You  will  not  ?  •  Then  my  strength  and 
hope  are  gone, 

And  I  shall  perish  ere  I  reach  my 
friends." 

And  then  she  pressed  her  brow,  as  if 
those  hands 

So  soft  and  small  could  still  her  throb- 
bing pulse. 

The  sentinels  looked  calmly  on,  like  men 

Whose  blades  had  toyed  with  sorrow, 
and  made  sport 

Of  woe.  One  step  the  maiden  back- 
ward took, 

Lingering  in  thought,  then  hope,  like  a 
soft  flush 

Of  struggling  twilight,  kindled  in  her 
eyes ; 

She  knelt  before  them  and  re-urged  her 
plea. 

"  Perchance  you  have  a  sister,  sir,  or 
you,— 

A  poor  young  thing  like  me ;  if  she 
were  here, 

Kneeling  like  me  before  my  country- 
men, 

They  would  not  spurn  her  thus ! " 
"  Go,  girl,  pass  on," 

The  softened  voice  of  one  replied ;  nor 
was 


She  checked,  nor  waited  she  to  heat 
repulse, 

But  darted  through  the  avenue,  attained 

The  hall,  and,  springing  up  the  well- 
known  stairs, 

With  such  a  flight  as  the  young  eagle 
takes 

To  gain  its  nest,  she  reached  the  quiet 
couch, 

Where  in  bright  dreams  the  uncon- 
scious sleeper  lay. 

Slight  covering  o'er  the  rescued  boy 
she  threw, 

And  caught  him  in  her  arms.  He  knew 
that  chee*k, 

Kissed  it  half  waking,  then  around  her 
neck 

His  hands  entwined,  and  dropped  to 
sleep  agairu 

She  bore  him  onward,  dreading  now  for 
him 

The  shot  that  whizzed  along  and  tore 
the  earth 

In  fragments  by  her  side.  She  reached 
the  guards, 

Who  silent  ope'd  the  gate,  then  hurried 
on; 

But,  as  she  passed  them,  from  her 
heart  burst  forth, 

"  God  bless  you,  gentlemen  ! "  then 
urged  her  way ; 

Those  arms,  whose  heaviest  load  and 
task  had  been 

To  poise  her  doll,  and  wield  her  child- 
hood's toys, 

Bearing  the  boy  along  the  dangerous 
road. 


POEMS  FOR   CHILDREN 


Voices  at  length  she  hears,  —  her 
friends  are  near ; 

They  meet,  and,  yielding  up  her  pre- 
cious charge, 

She  sinks  upon  her  father's  breast,  in 
doubt, 

'Twixt  smiles  and  tears. 


THE  SENTINEL. 

SEE  the  sentinel !  When  others 
sleep,  he  watches,  that  no  one  may 
disturb  them. 

When  the  night  is  dark,  and  the 
winds  are  abroad,  he  walks  alone. 
When  all  the  city  sleeps,  the  sentinel 
wakes  and  walks  alone. 

Perhaps  he  thinks  of  his  children  and 
his  home  ;  their  eyes  are  closed  in  quiet 
rest,  but  he  walks  alone. 

The  moon  shines  brightly  on  him, 
the  stars  are  his  company. 

Who  guards  the  sentinel  ?  God 
guards  him. 

MATTHEW  2 :  6. 

WHEREIN,  O,  Bethlehem!  doth 
thy  greatness  lie  ? 
In  warlike  host,  proud  tower,  or  palace 

high? 
No !    a  sweet  babe's   first   slumber   I 

have  seen, 

And  hence  the  cities  own  me  as  their 
queen.  S.  G. 

MATTHEW  2 :  18. 

IN  Kama  there  was  heard  a  wail  of 
grief,  — 
Rachel  refusing  solace  or  relief; 


But  Christian  lands  can  show  a  sight 

more  rare,  — 
A  mourner  comforted  by  thought  and 

prayer. 

SAMUEL  GILMAN. 


THOUGHTS  ON  THE  PORTRAIT 
OF  STUART'S  WASHINGTON. 

SEE,  they  advance  and  press  around 
Columbia's  son ! 

I  joy  to  hear  the  murmured  sound, 
Tis  he,  'tis  Washington  ! 

Come  on,  fair  boy,  and  thy  young  eye 

Shall  catch  a  ray, 
Will  teach  thee  how  to  act,  cr  die, 

In  danger's  way. 

Maiden,  with  feelings  pure  and  warm, 

Gaze  on  yon  field ; 
He  fought  to  throw  on  woman's  form 

A  soldier's  shield. 

Approach,  old  man  !  reflected  light 

Shall  beam  on  thee, 
For  thou  wert  with  him  in  the  fight, 

And  shouted,  "  Victory  ! " 

Yet,  is't  his  martial  bearing  high 

That  charms  us  now  ? 
Is  it  the  statesman's  thoughtful  eye 

And  manly  brow  ? 

Not  these  alone,  —  his  moral  worth 

The  spell  imparts, 
And  make  his  noble  throne  on  earth 

His  people's  hearts. 


STORIES   AND   TALES 

FOR   THE    YOUNG. 


BY 


MRS.    CAROLINE    GILMAN. 


HOLIDAYS  AT  THE  PLANTATION. -Page  51. 


HOLIDAYS    AT    THE    PLANTATION. 

A   SOUTHERN    STORY   OF    BYGONE   TIMES. 


CHAPTER   I. 

THE  Spring  holidays  had  arrived,  and  George  and  Clara  were 
wild  with  joy  at  the  idea  of  going  into  the  country.  They  raced 
about  the  house,  caught  their  old  black  maumer  around  the  neck, 
and  exclaimed,  — 

"  Good-by,  old  city ;  good-by,  books  !  " 

Clara  was  a  careful  girl,  and  laid  her  basket  of  books  away  neatly 
and  safely.  She  fancied  that  they  were  her  children,  and  that  she 
was  putting  them  to  bed,  and  said,  — 

"  Hush !  lie  still,  Spelling  Book ;  be  a  good  child,  Geography, 
and  sleep  beside  Table  Book,  and  do  not  wake  him  up.  Look," 
said  she,  as  she  saw  that  the  cover  of  her  Grammar  was  ragged, 
"you  have  torn  your  frock,  naughty  Grammar.  Here  is  my  Bible  ; 
shall  that  go  to  sleep,  too  ?  Oh,  no,  Bible  dear,'  I  must  have  you  in 
the  country,  too." 

George  and  Clara    bade   the  town   servants   good-by.      George 
mounted  his  pony,  calling  his  dog  Fido  to  follow  him,  and  Clara 
sprang  into  the  carriage  with  her  parents,  thinking  she  could  ride 
forever  without  being  tired. 
(50 


52  STORIES  AND    TALES 

It  was  a  bright  April  morning ;  the  sun  shone,  the  birds  sang,  and 
the  flowers  smelt  sweetly.  Clara  was  delighted  for  ten  miles,  and 
then  she  grew  weary.  Her  mother  said,  — 

"  Sing  some  hymns  and  songs,  Clara." 

So  Clara  sang,  and  George  cantered  his  little  pony  up  to  the  side 
of  the  carriage  and  sang  too.  While  they  were  singing  — 

"  Where  do  children  love  to  go, 
When  the  wintry  tempests  blow  ? 
What  is  it  attracts  them  so  ? 

Tis  the  Sabbath  school," 

they  saw  the  woods  on  fire.  The  flames  ran  like  snakes  up  the  dry 
trees  and  on  the  grass.  Clara  said  to  her  father,  — 

"  May  we  ciy  fire  ? " 

"  Yes,"  said  her  father,  "  as  loud  as  you  please. " 

"  May  Ben  cry  fire,  too  ?  "  said  George. 

When'  his  father  said  "Yes,"  George  and  Clara  and  little  Ben, 
who  was  behind  the  carriage,  cried  "  fire !  fire !  fire  !  "  as  loud  as 
they  could  roar ;  and  what  with  the  cries  and  the  laughter,  the  woods 
rang  again. 

At  one  o'clock  they  all  stopped  to  rest  the  horses  and  themselves 
and  dine.  This  is  called  a  maroon.  The  servants  spread  a  small 
carpet  on  the  grass,  under  a  large  oak,  hung  all  about  with  green 
vines  and  gray  moss-like  fringe.  The  children  assisted  in  taking 
the  cold  ham  and  fowl  from  the  basket.  Oh !  how  nice  every 
mouthful  tasted !  Fido  jumped  about  merrily,  and  sometimes  they 
threw  him  a  bone,  for  they  were  not  fearful  of  greasing  the  grass. 

"  Mamma,"  said  Clara,  "  I  think  this  is  as  pretty  as  our  dining- 
room.  The  oak  branches  are  our  curtains,  the  sky  is  our  ceiling, 
the  birds  are  our  musicians,  and  they  sing  as  prettily  as  sister  Kate 
at  the  piano-forte." 

"  Hush !  "  said  George ;  see  that  rabbit  crossing  the  road.     Quick, 


FOR    THE    YOUNG.  53 


Jack,  with  my  gun.  Look  !  the  fellow  is  on  the  fence  ;  now  he  is 
on  that  gum-tree  !  " 

The  gun  was.  brought ;  George  fired  and  missed  his  aim,  and  the 
merry  party  laughed  at  him. 

"  Never  mind,"  said  George ;  "  you  shall  see  what  I  will  do  when 
I  get  to  Oak  Hall.  A  fellow's  hand  shakes  a  little  after  riding." 

When  the  servants  had  dined,  they  all  set  off  quite  refreshed. 
Clara  was  almost  asleep  when  they  entered  the  avenue  at  twilight, 
but  was  soon  aroused  by  the  bright  glare  of  the  bush-lights  kindled 
about  the  negro  houses,  which  threw  a  cheerful  light  upon  Oak  Hall. 

No  wonder  that  Clara's  sleepy  eyes  were  opened  by  the  bush- 
lights,  for  they  are  brighter  than  a  drawing-room  lamp.  The  way 
they  are  arranged,  is  this :  A  carpenter  drives  a  stake  into  the 
ground  quite  deep ;  he  then  nails  boards  together,  like  an  open  box, 
and  fastens  them  on  top  of  the  stake,  w^iich  is  about  a  yard  from  the 
ground  ;  then  he  fills  the  box  with  earth.  When  night  comes  on, 
one  of  the  negroes  lays  a  small  heap  of  dry  pine  sticks  on  the  earth 
in  the  box,  and  sets  fire  to  them,  adding  others  as  these  are  burnt 
out. 

"  Here  we  are  !  "  shouted  Clara ;  "  look,  George,  there  is  the  tree 
where  you  shot  the  pretty  blue-bird.  Don't  shoot  any  more  pretty 
birds." 

Clara  did  not  say  any  more,  for  a  turn  in  the  road  brought  them 
near  to  Oak  Hall.  A  large  number  of  negroes  were  awaiting  their 
arrival,  and  the  little  ones  came  leaping  and  skipping  about  the 
bush-lights. 

George  and  Clara  found  their  aunt  in  the  house,  ready  to  welcome 
them,  and  were  delighted  to  see  the  sweet  roses  that  their  cousin 
Eliza  had  laid  upon  their  pillows.  After  supper  they  assembled  at 
prayers,  and  the  servants  who  wished  joined  them.  Clara  took  her 
Bible  to  her  room  to  read,  and  remembered  that  the  same  God 
watched  over  her  in  the  country  as  in  the  town. 


54  STORfES  AND    TALES 

A  light  shower  fell  in  the  night,  and  when  the  children  arose  in 
the  morning,  the  trees,  bushes,  and-  flowers  looked  bright  as  their 
smiles. 

After  prayers,  Clara  kissed  her  parents  and  then  ran  into  the 
garden.  The  seeds  were  all  up  in  her  own  bed,  and  the  roses  were 
in  full  bloom.  There  was  her  seat  beneath  the  cedar,  and  she 
fancied  the  very  same  mocking-bird  of  the  last  season  was  singing 
in  its  branches. 

George  and  his  cousin  James  called  Clara  to  help  them  get  ready 
to  go  out  gunning.  Clara  stitched  up  two  odd  looking  things, 
which  she  called  hunting  caps  to  save  their  city  hats,  and  James  put 
on  his  j  acket  wrong  side  out,  because  his  sleeve  .was  torn  at  the 
elbow.  When  they  were  equipped,  they  looked  like  Robinson  Cru- 
soe and  his  man  Friday. 

They  came  home  in  three^  hours,  with  one  solitary  Kingfisher. 
Clara  mourned  over  its  bright  crest  and  glossy  feathers,  a  little 
while  ;  but  when  the  boys  asked  her  and  Eliza  to  go  to  the  fields 
with  them  and  cook  it,  she  forgot  to  be  sorry. 

Ben  carried  salt  and  rice,  and  a  sauce-pan  to  cook  it  in,  and 
Clara,  with  her  sun-bonnet  crushed  all  on  one  side,  attended  the 
boys,  while  Fido  capered  by  their  side.  When  they  reached  the 
field,  they  found  a  large  oak  tree,  quite  hollow  in  the  trunk,  though 
it  was  green  and  beautiful  above.  There  were  ashes  inside,  where 
the  field  negroes  had  been  cooking.  Ben  struck  a  light,  and  gath- 
ered some  dry  brush  for  kindling.  George  picked  the  bird.  Clara 
examined  the  rice,  and  James  arranged  the  sauce-pan.  Great  was 
the  labor  for  that  meal.  They  forgot  water,  and  had  to  run  to  the 
spring  -  they  forgot  a  spoon,  and  were  obliged  to  whittle  a  stick  to 
eat  with.  A  gust  of  wind  blew  the  dust  and  ashes  into  their  eyes, 
and  many  other  troubles  had  they  ;  but  they  turned  them  all  into 
fun,  and  after  a  while  the  bird  and  rice  were  cooked,  and  they  all 
declared  it  was  remarkably  nice.  It  did  not  seem  to  take  away 


FOR    THE    YOUNG.  55 


their  appetites,  though,  for  when  the  dinner  horn  blew,  they  all  raced 
home,  and  ate  as  much  as  if  they  had  never  cooked  the  little  King^ 
fisher. 

Clara  was  very  fond  of  seeing  her  mother  give  out  fish,  tobacco, 
sugar,  etc.,  from  the  store-room,  and  she  followed  her  there  after 
dinner. 

"  When  you  are  sixteen  years  old,  you  may  help  me,"  said  her 
mamma. 

"  Oh,  mamma,"  said  Clara,  "  I  shall  never  live  such  a  heap  of 
years !  " 

While  Clara's  mother  was  giving  the  fish,  tobacco,  and  other 
things  that  she  thought  proper,,  many  of  the  negroes  came  with  eggs, 
groundnuts,  poultry,  and  sweet  potatoes,  of  their  own  raising,  and 
she  gave  them  more  articles  in  return. 

"  Mamma,"  said  Clara,  "  these  people  put  me  in  mind  of  the  par- 
able of  the  talents  ;  they  all  get  their  reward." 

Clara  then  asked  her  mother  if  she  might  give  the  little  negroes  a 
treat.  Her  mother  said  "  Yes,"  and  gave  her  biscuits  and  sugar,  and 
told  her  to  go  to  the  dairy-woman  for  milk.  After  Clara  had  made 
all  her  arrangements,  she  went  to  the  piazza  and  called  out,  — 

"  Dick,  La  Fayette,  Pompey,  Cuff,  Daphne,  Dido  and  Moll,  go  and 
tell  all  your  broder  and  titter  come,  cause .  I  been  have  something 
good  for  'em." 

Away  they  scampered,  and  came  back  with  the  rest,  with  their 
wooden  piggins. 

Clara  then  told  them  to  sit  on  the  grass  in  a  circle,  while  she  stood 
in  the  midst  of  them,  giving  most  to  those  who  had  little  infants  in 
their  arms.  They  were  all  beginning  to  eat,  when  she  said",  "  Stop  ! " 

ey  obeyed  her  like  so  many  soldiers' 

"  Get  up,"  said  she,  "  Make  curchy."  They  understood  her  better 
than  some  readers  of  this  story,  for  the  girls  all  made  courtesies,  and 
the  boys  all  scraped  their  right  foot,  or  kissed  their  hands,  while 
some  of  them  said, — 


56  S TORIES  AND    TALES 

"Tank  you,  my  young  missis." 

Then  Clara  said,  "  Eat,"  —  and  they  began  without  delay,  their 
iron  spoons  clattering  against  the  piggins. 

George  and  Clara  loved  to  go  to  the  burial-ground  where  their  little 
baby  sister  lay.  They  could  see  the  moss-covered  brick  wall  from 
the  piazza,  and  the  old  cedar  tree  that  stood  in  the  centre.  They 
were  not  sad  when  they  walked  to  the  graveyard,  but  gathered  flow- 
ers, and  chatted  like  birds.  When  they  opened  the  gate,  there 
seemed  some  solemn  feeling  to  come  over  them ;  they  went  to  a 
white  slab  that  was  under  the  cedar  and  read  the  name,  "JANE"  ; 
then  they  pulled  up  some  weeds  that  grew  near  the  tombstone,  and 
Clara  said,  — 

"I  am  not  afraid  of  snakes  here,  brother.  Look,  George,  our 
lily  is  in  bloom  !  " 

And,  sure  enough,  there  were  two  white  blossoms  beneath  the  old 
cedar,  and  George  said,  — 

"  It  may  be  that  our  little  sister  is  blooming  just  so  in  Heaven." 

Then  Clara  stooped  and  pulled  up  another  weed ;  then  they  went 
out  and  shut  the  gate  softly. 

The  sun  was  sinking  in  the  west  when  George  and  Clara  returned 
to  the  house,  and  they  stood  in  the  piazza  with  their  father,  seeing 
how  beautifully  the  trees  looked  as  the  light  bade  them  good  night. 

Then  the  living  creatures  all  about  came  to  rest.  First  the  horses 
galloped  up  the  avenue,  as  the  little  negroes  clapped  their  hands  and 
shouted  to  make  them  go  fast ;  then  the  cows  came  to  their  pens. 

Then  came  the  geese  walking  along  quite  solemnly ;  then  followed 
the  sheep,  and  George  threw  them  some  corn  ;  then  the  ducks  flew 
across  the  green,  quacking;  then  the  little  birds  went  to  their  nests, 
and  the  crows  to  the  high  trees. 

On  a  cluster  of  huge  oaks,  near  the  house,  ran  an  immense  grape- 
vine. It  twined  up  the  limbs  of  one  tree,  then  dropped  down  from 
a  vast  height  near  to  the  ground,  and  then  threw  up  its  tendrils  to 


FOR   THE   YOUNG.  57 


another.  This  was  the  children's  favorite  swing,  and  here  came 
George  and  Clara,  with  their  cousins  and  a  troop  of  little  negroes. 

After  the  little  family  had  swung,  they  gave  the  little  negroes  a 
turn ;  and  it  was  droll  to  see  how  the  black  babies,  in  their  little 
nurses'  arms,  tried  not  to  be  scared.  They  rolled  up  their  eyes, 
and  all  who  were  old  enough  to  have  teeth,  showed  them. 

George  was  a  rogue,  and  wished  to  swing  them  high  and  frighten 
them ;  but  Clara  and  Eliza  would  not  let  him.  They  caught  hold 
of  the  swing  and  said,  — 

"  For  shame,  George  !  You  shall  not  frighten  them  !  See,  little 
Toney  is  crying !  He  has  as  much  feeling  as  you.  Come  here, 
Toney,  and  we  will  protect  you." 

So  Toney  sidled  up  to  the  girls  for  protection,  and  wiped  his  nose 
on  his  jacket  sleeve,  and  did  not  cry  any  more ;  and  George  con- 
sented to  put  the  rest  in  the  swing  gently,  and  be  kind  to  them ; 
and  it  was  a  pretty  sight  to  see  them  standing  in  a  circle,  waiting 
patiently  for  their  turn  to  come,  and  to  hear  the  shouts  when  any  of 
them  went  high,  and  the  still  louder  shouts  when  they  tumbled  out 
on  the  soft  earth. 

When  the  setting  sun  cast  again  a  soft,  yellow  look  over  every- 
thing about  Oak  Hall ;  when  the  shadows  of  the  last  negroes  who 
had  lingered  over  their  tasks  looked  long  as  they  came  home  to  their 
families,  the  children  asked  leave  to  go  to  the  Frog  Pond. 

"Must  you  carry  all  these  little  negroes  ? "  said  the  father,  looking 
around  on  about  twenty  that  stood  waiting. 

"O,  yes!"  they  exclaimed,  giving  various  reasons.  "Pompey 
must  go,  because 'he  has  a  good  bass  voice  for  the  bull-frog,  and 
Moll  squeaked  the  best,  and  Dick  was  to  take  George's  fishing- 
tackle,  etc.,  etc.,  etc. ;  ancfc,  as  for  all  the  rest,  they  must  go  wid  dem 
broder  and  titter." 

So  forth  they  all  went  to  the  Frog  Pond,  and  George  undertook  to 
marshal  the  party. 


58  STOKIES  AND    TALES 

"  You,  mamma,  and  Clara,  and  cousin  Eliza,"  said  he,  "  must  stand 
together  with  these  little  negro  girls,  for  treble,  and  squeak  like  one 
pig.  Father  and  cousin  James,  you  must  stand  with  the  boys,  for 
bass.  Pompey  first,  because  he  is  used  to  it.  There,  that  is  right. 
Now,  mamma,  and  all  the  girls,  call  out,  as  loud  as  you  can,  Fried 
bacon,  fried  bacon  ;  and  father,  we  must  say  on  our  side  of  the  pond, 
as  gruffly  as  we  can,  Tea-table,  tea-table." 

For  some  time  the  frogs  were  silent,  and  would  not  utter  a  sound. 
Perhaps  they  were  frightened  at  the  shouts  of  laughter  that  mixed  in 
with  "  Fried  bacon,"  and  "  Tea-table  "  ;  but  after  a  while  they  became 
more  sociable.  A  great  bull-frog  began,  but  his  note  was  greeted 
with  such  a  roar  of  fun,  that  he  could  not  get  courage  to  go  on. 

"  Now,  father,"  said  George,  "  you  and  the  boys  must  grunt  out, 
Who  marry  my  wife  when  I  dead  ?  and  mother  and  the  girls  must 
say,  Not  me,  not  me,  not  me.  Who  take  my  fader  wheri  I  dead  ? 
(Answer.)  Not^me,  not -me,  not  me.  Who  take  my  chillun  when  I 
dead  ?  (Answer.)  Not  me,  not  me,  not  me.  Who  take  my  money 
when  I  dead  ?  (Answer.)  Me,  me,  me,  me,  me  —  " 

The  frogs,  not  caring  much  for  grammar,  liked  this  very  well,  and 
as  the  darkness  increased,  what  with  the  noise  of  the  frogs  and  the 
children,  George's  mother  had  to  stop  her  ears. 

The  stars  now  came  out,  and  the  merry  party  started  homeward, 
but  through  the  walk,  as  Pompey  now  and  then  roared  out,  "  Who 
take  my  money  when  I  dead  ? "  the  children  squeaked,  "  Me,  me,  me, 
me." 

NEGRO    HYMNS. 

The  children  loved  to  collect  the  little  negroes  and  hear  them 
sing.  The  place  they  chose  for  the  choir  was  beneath  an  orange 
tree,  near  the  piazza,  where  the  bush-light^were  brightly  shining. 

Children's  concerts  are  very  sweet  as  they  sit  dressed  finely,  in 
grand  halls,  or  fine  churches ;  but  so  is  a  negro  concert  under  a 
waving  tree. 


FOR    THE    YOUNG.  59 


There  was  a  whispering  among  them  for  a  few  moments,  after 
Clara  bade  them  sing,  and  then  they  began  with  a  shout,  — 

"  Master  Jesus  is  my  Captain, 
He  is  my  all  in  all, 
He  give  me  grace  to  conquer", 
And  take  me  home  to  rest ! 
I'm  walking  on  to  Jesus, 

Hallelujah ! 

I'm  walking  on  to  Jesus, 
Hallelujah  ! 

George  and  Clara  and  their  cousins  grew  drowsy,  and  the  infants 
fell  asleep  in  their  little  nurses'  arms.  As  the  -singers  separated, 
each  to  their  own  hut,  they  sang,  — 

"  Don't  you  hear  the  gospel  trumpet 
Sound  Jubilee?" 

The  children  often  went  with  their  parents  to  visit  the  sick,  and 
Clara  saved  many  a  fourpence  from  sugar-plums  to  give  her  old 
favorite,  Maum  Nelly.  . 

Maum  Nelly. had  been  the  'nurse  on  the  plantation,  but  was  now 
too  infirm  for  that  office.  Her  manners  were  soft  and  grave,  and  her 
low  courtesy  almost  graceful.  She  had  always  a  present  of  eggs  for 
the  children  when  they  came  from  town. 

She  was  now  very  feeble ;  but  as  Clara  entered  her  house,  she 
dusted  the  bench  with  her  apron,  and  begged  her  to  sit  down.  Af- 
ter Clara  was  seated,  Nelly  paused  a  little,  and  then  said,  — 

"  My  journey  most  done,  my  little  missis.  De  Lord  ben  very  kind 
to  me.  When  Miss  Clara  come  back  again  to  Oak  Hall,  Maum 
Nelly  bones  will  lie  yonder  under  de  pine,  but  her  soul  will  gone  to 
God  Almighty.  Me  poor,  weak  creature,  but  de  Lord  Jesus  bery 
merciful^ — praise  Him." 

Clara  walked  slowly  back  to  the  house,  and  thought  much  that 
dav  of  her  old  friend. 


6O  STORfES  AND   TALES 

The  day  came  for  the  children  to  return  to  school.  It  seemed  a 
sad  thing  to  leave  the  beautiful  country,  with  its  wide  fields  and 
green  trees,  the  riding  and  fishing,  for  the  dusty  city. 

All  the  people  that  were  not  at  work  came  to  bid  them  good-by. 
They  stood  in  a  row,  to  let  the  carriage  pass,  and  Clara  saw  Maum 
Nelly  standing  at  her  door,  with  her  apron  to  her  eyes  ;  then  Clara 
remembered  what  she  had  said  about  lying  beneath  the  pine-trees, 
and  she  wanted  to  cry ;  but  the  coachman  cracked  his  whip,  the  car- 
riage rolled  on,  and  she  began  to  think  of  the  city. 


THE    BOY    WHO    WISHED     IT    WOULD    RAIN    MONEY. 

A    FAIRY   TALE. 

"  I  WISH  it  would  rain  money,"  said  Harry  Merdon  to  his  father. 

"  Why  so  ? "  said  Mr.  Merdon.  "  You  have  clothes  and  food,  and 
a  nice  house  to  live  in ;  what  more  do  you  wish  for  ? " 

"  Oh,  a  thousand  things  ! "  answered  Harry.  "  A  rocking-horse, 
and  a  gold  watch,  and  a  library,  and  plenty  of  sugar  things,  and  —  " 

"  Stop ! "  said  his  father ;  "  that  is  enough  for  the  present.  You 
are  as  restless  as  a  great  king  the  books  tell  about,  who  made  him- 
self master  of  all  the  countries  about  him,  and  then  wept  because 
he  had  no  more  to  conquer.  Silly  boy !  You  have  all  your  proper 
wants  gratified,  and  yet  you  are  dissatisfied  " ;  and  as  Mr.  Merdon 
said  this,  he  went  into  his  office,  and  Harry  walked  on. 

"  I  don't  care,"  said  Harry,  "  about  the  old  king,  Alexander,  I  be- 
lieve they  call  him.  I  wish  it  would  rain  money." 

It  was  a  pleasant  afternoon,  and  Harry,  having  permission  to  walk, 
strolled  out  of  the  city.  He  was  not  contented  with  seeing  the 
pretty,  fresh-looking  grass  spread  out  like  a  carpet,  nor  the  setting 


FOR    THE    YOUNG.  6 1 


sun  sailing  like  a  balloon  down  the  sky,  nor  with  the  fresh  breeze,  as 
if  unseen  hands  were  fanning  him,  nor  with  the  river  lying  like  a 
glass,  showing  the  beautiful  clouds  over  again ;  no,  no,  Master  Harry 
cared  for  none  of  these  things  that  God  has  given  to  his  children  so 
kindly,  but  he  went  on  saying, "  Oh,  dear,  if  it  would  only  rain  money ! " 

While  he  was  walking  along,  thinking  about  it,  he  saw  a  dark 
cloud  rising  from  the  north.  It  moved  so  fast  he  could  not  help 
watching  it.  At  length  it  stopped  over  his  head,  and  came  down 
slowly,  and  while  he  looked  with  his  face  upward,  he  felt 'something 
fall  on  his  forehead,  and  saw  it  drop  on  the  earth.  He  stopped 
to  see  what  it  was.  He  could  hardly  believe  it  to  be  true  when  he 
found  it  was  a  sixpence,  as 'bright  and  new  as  if  it  had  just  been 
made  in  the  mint.  He  clapped  his  hands,  and  skipped  for  joy. 

"  I  will  go  straight  home  and  show  it  to  father  and  mother,"  said 
he,  "  and  then  buy  something  nice,  and  divide  with  the  children." 

So  he  set  off  to  go  home.  As  he  passed  the  market,  he  saw  the 
old  woman  sitting  there  with  molasses  candy  and  fresh  cakes. 

"I  should  like  one  of  those  cakes,"  said  Harry  to  himself;  but  he 
walked  on,  thinking  he  would  tell  his  parents  first  how  he  came  by 
the  money ;  but  at  the  corner  of  the  street  he  saw  another  black 
woman  selling  cakes. 

He  stopped.  "  I  can  buy  a  cake  and  carry  a  part  of  it  home," 
thought  he,  "  and  then  tell  the  family  about  it." 

So  he  bought  it,  and  began  to  eat  his  share,  and  it  was  very  nice 
and  sweet ;  and  alas !  before  he  reached  home,  he  ate  all  the  cake. 

"  I  am  ashamed  to  tell  them  about  it,"  thought  Harry,  "  because  I 
have  been  so  selfish.  Perhaps,  if  I  walk  out  to-morrow,  I  shall  see 
some  more  money  drop  out  of  the  cloud,  and  then  I  am  sure  I  shall 
carry  it  home  and  divide  it." 

Harry  went  home,  but  his  thoughts  were  so  full  of  his  cloud-money, 
that  he  was  careless  and  disobedient,  missed  his  lesson  at  school  the 
ne£t  day,  and  was  very  unhappy. 


62  STORIES  AND    TALES 


As  Harry  was  preparing  to  take  his  walk  the  next  afternoon,  it 
began  to  rain  so  \yolently  that  he  could  not  go.  The  foolish  boy 
became  angry,  and  almost  cried  for  vexation.  His  sister  asked  him 
to  play  chess  with  her,  and  he  began,  but  lost  his  patience,  and  of 
course  lost  the  game  ;  and  when  she  said,  "  Checkmate,"  he  rudely 
told  her  that  she  cheated. 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  you,  Harry  ? "  said  Sue.  "  I  never  saw 
you  so  cross  before." 

Harry  Would  not  answer,  but  piled  up  the  chess-men,  and  then 
knocked  them  down. 

Sue  did  not  know  that  he  had  a  "  secret  fault,"  or  she  could  have 
told  what  made  him  unhappy.  We  are'never  very  unhappy  when  we 
can  tell  our  troubles  to  some  kind  friend ;  but  Harry  was  ashamed  to 
tell  his,  even  to  his  dear  sister. 

The  clouds  passed  away,  and  the  sun  shone  in  time  for  Harry  to 
walk  out. 

"Where  are  you  going?"  said  Sue.*  Harry  would  not  answer,  but 
hurried  away.  Again  he  visited  the  same  spot,  and  again  he  forgot 
the  brightness  and  beauty  of  the  grass  and  the  trees  after  the  shower. 
He  looked  only  at  the  north  where  his  money-cloud  had  arisen  be- 
fore. 

At  length  it  came  and  rose  slowly,  and  then  faster  and  faster  on 
the  blue  sky,  and  hovered  over  him. 

I  hope  it  will  not  drop  a  foolish  sixpence  this  time,  thought  Harry. 
I  should  Jike  a  twelve  and  a  half  cent  piece. 

As  he  spoke,  the  cloud  came  slowly  .down,  and  the  very  thing  he 
asked  for  dropped  out  of  it  —  a  bright,  new  shilling. 

Harry  did  not  jump  and  dance,  and  give  thanks  as  before ;  he 
looked  very  serious,  and  thought  what  he  should  do  with  the  money. 

"Of  course,"  said  he  to  himself,  "I  must  carry  it  home." 

On  the  green  he  saw  some  boys  playing  marbles.  They  were  bigger 
than  he  was,  and  he  did  not  know  them,  but  he  just  stopped  to  see1  the 


FOR    THE    YOL'XG. 


play.  He  was  very  much  astonished  when  he  found  they  played  for 
money,  and  when  one  of  the  boys  took  a  quarter^  of  a  dollar  from 
another,  he  knew  it  was  wrong.  Alas,  poor  Harry,  if  you  had  only 
then  walked  away  and  told  your  kind  parents  all  that  had  happened 
to  you,  you  would  have  saved  them  many  tears  ;  but  no,  Harry  stood 
looking  at  the  game.  At  length  one  of  the  big  boys  saw  the  shilling 
shining  in  his  hand,  and  he  began  to  talk  with  Harry,  and  urged 
him  to  play.  At  first  Harry  said  no,  that  it  was  wicked  gambling, 
and  that  his  parents  would  be  angry.  The  bad  boys  laughed,  and 
told  him  that  his  parents  would  not  know  anything  about  it,  and 
they  coaxed,  and"  urged,  and  he  said  he  would  play. 

He  did.  play,  and  the  big  boys  won  his  shilling,  then  laughed  at 
him,  and  went  away. 

By  this  time,  it  was  dark,  and  a  sad  walk  had  Harry,  and  he  wept 
as  he  went  along ;  but  Harry's  tears  were  not  half  so  sad  as  those 
of  a  parent  who  has  a  bad  son. 

Even  now  all  might  have  been  well  had  he  gone  home  and  told 
his  father  and  mother,  and  begged  their  pardon,  and  prayed  to  God 
to  be  made  better ;  they  would  have  put  their  arms  about"  his  neck, 
and  said,  "  My  son  we  forgive  you,"  and  he  would  have  laid  his  head 
down  on  his  pillow  and  slept  in  peace  ;  "  But  how  can  I  say  it  ? " 
he  told  them  a  tie,  and  said  he  had  been  to  see  a  friend. 

They  kissed  him  and  bade  him  good  night,  but  the  kiss  did  not 
comfort  him.  He  sobbed  upon  his  pillow  alone,  and  said,  "  I  am 
wicked !  I  am  wicked ! "  and  he  fell  asleep,  dreaming  that  a  dark 
cloud  was  bearing  him  away  from  his  dear  home. 

I  pity  the  child  who  dares  not  go  to  his  mother  when  he  rises 
from  his  bed,  and  offer  her  a  kiss.  It  is  a  sweet  half  hour  when 
coming  down  from  the  bed-rooms,  with  glossy  hair  and  sparkling 
eyes  a  circle  of  children  gather  round  their  parents  wishing  them  a 
kind  good  morning,  telling  all  their  thoughts,  and  looking  as  bright 
as  the  sunshine. 


64  STORIES  AND    TALKS 

But  where  is  Harry  Merdon  ?  Why  is  not  his  merry  voice  heard 
among  his  brothers  and  sisters  ?  He  sits  in  one  corner  of  the  room 
sad  and  lonely,  and  when  they  speak  to  him  he  answers  angrily. 
He  will  not  play  battledore  with  Henry,  nor  look  over  the  new  book 
of  prints  with  Jane,  and  when  his  little  sister  Julia,  of  whom  he  has 
always  been  so  fond,  comes  near  him,  he  pushes  her  roughly  away. 
So  will  children  always  do  when  they  have  been  artful  and  done 
those  things  which  they  ought  not  to  have  done,  and  they  will  never 
be  happy  until  they  feel  sorry  and  say  so,  and  have  been  forgiven. 

In  the  afternoon  Harry  was  permitted  to  walk  abroad.  He  went 
with  an  eager  step.  "  I  will  not  ask  for  those  small  pieces  of  money 
again,"  said  he  to  himself.  "  Nothing  less  than  dollars  shall  satisfy 
me.  Those  good-for-nothing  sixpences  are  not  worth  talking  about. 
I  will  buy  a  pony  to  begin  with.  Jack  Stedman's  father  wants  to 
sell  his,  but  his  saddle  is  not  good  enough  for  a  person  who  can  get 
money  as  I  can  for  wishing.  I  will  have  another  suit  of  clothes, 
too,  and  see  if  I  cannot  cut  a  little  figure  at  the  races  next  winter." 

Harry  went  on  talking  to  himself  until  his  spirits  were  quite 
raised,  and  he  forgot  that  he  had  told  a  lie.  At  length  he  came  to 
the  spot  where  the  cloud  money  always  dropped. 

"  Now,"  he  exclaimed,  "  I  hope  it  will  rain  dollars  " ;  and  no  sooner 
had  he  wished,  than  down  came  the  dollars.  One  hit  him  on  the  eye 
and  hurt  him  so  that  he  could  not  see  ;  another  came  tumbling  down 
on  his  nose  and  set  it  a  bleeding ;  as  he  was  going  to  pick  up  some 
from  the  ground  there  came  such  a  shower  of  them  on  his  knuckles 
that  they  almost  put  his  fingers  out  of  joint,  and  he  could  not  handle 
them  at  all.  His  head  began  to  ache  with  the  thumps  ;  and  at  last 
he  roared  out  with  pain.  He  was  a  sight  to  behold  ;  the  blood  was 
streaming  from  his  nose,  his  eyes  were  blood-shot,  and  his  hands 
were  held  up  over  his  head  to  keep  the  dollars  from  killing  him. 
He  could  stand  it  no  longer,  but  kicking  up  his  heels  he  ran  as  fast 
as  his  feet  could  carry  him. 


FOR    THE    YOUNG.  65 


The  people  who  saw  him  thought  he  was  crazy,  and  some  boys 
who  were  playing  called  out  "stop  thief"  as  he  went  racing  by,  for 
nobody  could  believe  he  was  a  gentleman's  son.  The  cry  was 
raised  among  the  people  in  the  street,  who  followed  him  screaming 
"  stop  thief." 

Poor  Harry  was  terribly  frightened,  and  glad  he  was  when  he 
came  to  his  own  house.  He  rushed  in  at  the  door,  and  fell  clown 
with  fear  and  fatigue.  His  mother  went  to  him  and  laid  him  on  a 
bed,  and  bathed  his  face,  and  was  surprised  at  his  strange  situation ; 
then  Harry  confessed  all  and  wept  tears  of  real  sorrow,  and  his 
mother  forgave  and  comforted  him,  and  told  him  that  God  knows 
best  what  is  good  for  us,  and  that  we  ought  not  to  seek  for  those 
things,  which  he  refuses,  and  she  said, 

"  Be  cheerful,  Harry,  and  contented,  and  you  will  not  wish  for 
those  things  that  will  injure  you." 

Then  Harry  became  a  wise  boy,  and  never  concealed  anything 
from  his  parents  again. 


PUNCTUATION. 


COMMA COUNT   ONE. 


WHAT  is  that  little  dot  with  a  tail  to  it  ?  and  what  is  it  for  ?  I  see 
it  in  all  my  books. 

It  is  put  there  to  make  you  read  slowly,  Louisa.  Its  name  is  a 
comma,  and  when  you  see  a  comma  in  your  book,  you  must  stop 
long  enough  to  count  one.  Louisa  will  never  read  well,  unless  she 
5 


66  STORIES  AND    TALES 

looks  at  the  commas.     Big  men  and  women  look  at  the  commas, 
and  stop  long  enough  to  count  one. 

How  many  commas  are  there  in  this  piece  ?     Count  them.     Now 
bring  your  slate  and  pencil,  and  make  commas  until  you  are  weary. 

PERIOD FULL   STOP. 


I  HAVE  counted  the  commas,  ma'am,  and  Alfred  has  come  to  see 
me,  and  we  wish  you  to  tell  us  what  the  little  round  dot  is  without  a 
tail. 

Sit  down,  Alfred.  Sit  down,  Louisa,  and  open  a  book.  Look  at 
this  (.)  It  is  a  period.  If  you  do  not  stop  and  breathe  when  you 
see  periods,  your  reading  will  never  please  your  father.  You  must 
stop  long  enough  to  count  four,  or  six.  All  the  lawyers  and  minis- 
ters have  to  stop  and  breathe  when  they  see  a  period.  They  dare 
not  pass  it  by  without  doing  so.  What  does  a  period  look  like, 
Alfred? 

Like  a  black  pin's  head  broken  off,  ma'am. 

How  many  periods  are  there  in  this  piece  ?  Now  take  your  slates 
and  see  which  can  make  the  neatest  period.  Good-by. 

SEMICOLON  —  COUNT  TWO.      COLON  —  COUNT  THREE. 


COME  here,  Thomas,  and  read  these  names.  Colon  :  semicolon. 
What  does  a  colon  (:)  look  like  ? 

A  colon  (:)  looks  like  two  periods. 

You  must  stop  long  enough  at  a  colon  to  count  three.  It  is  not 
often  used. 

What  does  a  semicolon  (;)  look  like  ? 


FOR   THE    YOUNG.  6/ 


It  looks  like  a  comma  with  a  hat  on. 

Very  well,  Thomas.     Mind  that  you  pay  great  respect  to  your 
semicolons.     Semi  means  half. 
Here  is  some  poetry  for  you. 

Whene'er  I  meet  a  comma  (,)  I'll  think  of  saying  one, 
And  two  at  semicolons  (;)  will  be  very  pleasant  fun ; 
The  colon  (:)  till  I've  counted  three,  my  little  mind  will  fix  — 
At  periods  (.)  I'll  make  a  pause,  and  think  of  four  or  six. 

THIS   IS   A   NOTE  OF   INTERROGATION COUNT   FOUR   OR  SIX. 


WHAT  a  long  word !     Spell  it,  John.     In-ter-ro-ga-tion. 

We  use  the  note  of  interrogation  when  we  write  a  question.  How 
are  you,  John  ?  Do  you  love  to  play  ball  ? 

There  are  two  notes  of  interrogation.  I  will  make  six.  ?  ?  ?  ?  ?  ? 
What  do  they  look  like,  John  ? 

They  look  like  soldiers  marching  backwards,  ma'am. 

That  is  a  nice  boy.  Now  tell  me  how  long  you  mean  to  stop  at  a 
note  of  interrogation. 

I  will  stop  long  enough  to  count  four. 

Good-by,  Johnny.     Go,  make  some  on  your  slate. 


MASTER    DICKY    BLUFF. 

HE  never  takes  off  his  hat  in  the  house  without  being  told. 
When  you  are  speaking  he  either  interrupts  you,  or  turns  on  his 
heel  and  walks  off. 

He  has  been  taught  to  use  an  oath. 


68  STORIES  AND    TALES 

He  fancies  that  he  looks  very  manly  when  he  stands  outside  the 
church  door  at  prayers. 

He  takes  the  best  place  at  table,  and  sits  down  before  any  one 
else. 

He  helps  himself  plentifully  from  the  rarest  dish. 

He  takes  the  wall  from  ladies  and  gentlemen  when  he  meets  them 
in  the  street. 

When  on  horseback  he  goes  full  gallop. 

He  was  once  seen  with  a  cigar  in  his  mouth. 

He  thinks  it  manly  to  talk  loud  at  public  places. 

Who  seizes  on  the  eatables  at  a  party  before  any  one  can  be 
helped  ?  Dicky  Bluff. 

Who  follows  the  waiter  and  empties  it  ?     Dicky  Bluff. 

Who  thinks  it  very  manly  to  kick  and  shuffle  in  dancing  ?  Dicky 
Bluff. 

Who  likes  to  make  a  noise  in  the  street  ?     Dicky  Bluff. 

Who  amuses  himself  writing  on  fences  ?     Djcky  Bluff. 

Who  breaks  windows  and  pulls  down  blinds,  lamps,  and  signs  ? 
Dicky  Bluff. 


A   LITTLE   GIRL  THAT   BITES   HER   NAILS. 

WHAT  are  you  eating,  little  Miss  ?  Nuts  ? 

No,  ma'am. 

Cake? 

No,  ma'am. 

Sugar  plums  ? 

No,  ma'am. 

Let  me  see  your  hands.  Oh,  for  shame,  you  are  eating  your  nails  ! 
Bring  some  bread  for  the  little  girl.  Nails  were  not  made  to  be 
eaten.  Next  week  we  will  see  if  the  little  girl  has  pretty  nails  on 
her  nice  little  fingers. 


THE  NEW   SCHOLAR. -Page  69. 


FOR    THE    YOUNG.  69 


•THE   NEW   SCHOLAR. 

THE  first  Monday  of  January,  1820,  Master  Richard  Homespun, 
under  the  direction  of  his  mamma,  made  the  usual  preparations  for 
entering  an  academy  in  a  southern  city  of  our  Union.  Richard  was 
fourteen  years  old,  and  well  grown,  —  a  fact  particularly  perceptible, 
as  his  tight  sleeves  only  came  to  his  wrist,  and  left  his  purple  hands 
fully  exposed  to  anatomical  observation.  Nature  had  been  singu- 
larly bountiful  to  Richard  in  a  thick,  bushy  head ;  but,  like  most 
overgrown  populations,  "  each  particular  hair  "  could  not  have  its  due 
attention,  and  the  whole  mass  stuck  up  in  turbulent  strength. 

Richard's  mamma  had  given  him  various  directions  on  his  jour- 
ney, with  regard  to  his  deportment. 

"  Dicky,  my  dear,"  said  she,  "  you  must  be  careful  when  you  go 
into  school  to  hold  up  your  head,  and  make  your  manners,  or  the 
boys  will  laugh  at  you." 

Richard  was  a  good  son,  and  promised  to  bow,  little  tninking .  of 
the  tremendous  difference  there  is  between  the  dodge  of  a  country 
boy,  and  the  sweeping  curve  of  a  city  obeisance. 

"  And  mind,  Dicky,  dear,"  said  his  mamma,  "  keep  your  new  hat 
safe,  and  don't  get  any  dog-ears  in  your  books  ;  and  when  you  open 
them,  do  it  softly,  and  don't  break  the  covers  ;  read  so,  my  dear" ; 
and  Mrs.  Homespun  inserted  her  nose  between  the  blue  covers  of  a 
spelling  book. 

Richard  was  a  smart  boy,  and  had  been  one  of  the  best  students 
and  kite-players  at  a  country  school ;  but  he  felt  in  great  trepidation 
at  the  idea  of  encountering  so  many  strangers,  besides  having  had 
hints  of  pumping  and  other  school  tricks.  His  mother  kept  him  so 
long  on  Monday  arranging  his  collar,  picking  the  threads  off  his 
jacket,  and  smoothing  his  new  hat,  that  the  exercises  of  the  school 
had  commenced  before  he  entered. 


7O  STORIES  AND    TALES 

As  soon  as  a  face,  accompanied  by  the  insignia  of  a  satchel,  ap- 
peared at  the  door,  the  school  hum  ceased,  and  every  eye  was  fixed 
upon  him.  He  took  off  his  hat,  and,  holding  it  straight  before  him, 
gave  an  agitated  jerk  with  his  head,  and  scraped  his  foot  with  a  fling 
up  backwards. 

A  smile,  to  say  the  least,  spread  over  the  young  assembly.  The 
principal,  who  saw  the  gathering  commotion,  advanced  to  his  coun- 
try catechumen,  and  seated  him  where  he  would  not  be  exposed  to 
the  observation  of  the  scholars. 

There  are  few  scenes  where  a  good  heart  and  regulated  under- 
standing are  more  conspicuous  than  in  the  ranks  of  a  school  on  the 
introduction  of  a  new  pupil.  Whatever  may  be  his  appearance,  a 
perfectly  well-bred  boy  will  welcome  a  schoolmate  to  his  new  duties 
with  politeness.  Who  does  not  remember  the  moment  when  he  first 
entered  the  dreaded  school-room  ;  how  anxiously  he  cast  a  glance 
around  to  see  if  there  were  any  who  meant  to  respect  and  love  him 
in  that  strange  circle  ? 

The  principal  of  the  seminary,  to  which  Richard  was  introduced, 
was  generous  and  kind.  He  saw  by  the  boy's  bright  eyes  that  he 
was  intelligent,  though  awkward.  After  the  exercises  of  the  morn- 
ing were  over,  he  called  on  the  class  in  which  Richard  had  entered 
to  remain. 

"  Young  gentlemen,"  said  he,  "  allow  me  to  introduce  to  you  a  new 
schoolmate.  He  is  a  stranger,  and  will  depend  on  you  in  some 
measure  for  happiness,  now  that  he  is  away  from  his  home.  I  hope 
that  by  your  kindness  you  will  make  him  feel  that  he  is  among 
friends." 

The  boys  looked  a  little  disconcerted,  for  they  had  been  planning  a 
hoax ;  but  better  feelings  prevailed.  He  was  received,  not  as  a  butt, 
but  as  an  equal,  and  they  learned  that  kindness  was  better  than  fun. 

Some  of  these  very  boys  are  now  voting  for  Mr.  Homespun  as 
member  to  Congress. 


FOR    THE    YOUNG.  7 1 


CINDERCLAWS. 

ANOTHER    CHRISTMAS    DREAM. 

SUSAN  EGGLESTON'S  fair  cheek  rested  on  her  pillow,  a  few  curls 
strayed  from  her  night-cap,  and  her  breathing  was  like  the  motion 
of  a  lily  leaf  on  the  smooth  waters,  when  her  mother  went  on  tiptoe 
into  her  room,  opened  her  stocking  and  placed  something  within  it ; 
then  casting  a  look  of  satisfied  fondness  on  the  little  sleeper,  she 
touched  her  cheek  with  the  lightest  of  kisses,  and  departed  with  a 
mother's  prayer  of  love. 

.  Susan  dreamed  that  something 'descended  slowly  down  the  chim- 
ney, covered  with  a  sooty  blanket,  from  which  proceeded  a  female 
voice,  singing  sweetly.  When  it  had  reached  the  hearth,  she  ob- 
served four  hooks  let  down  by  cords  to  the  four  corners  of  the 
blanket,  which  carefully  drew  it  up  the  chimney  again,  without  scat- 
tering a  cinder. 

Under  this*  singular  canopy  sat  a  small  airy  figure,  in  a  glass 
barouche  drawn  by  eight  peacocks,  surrounded  by  numerous  little 
attendants. 

"It  would  be  very  strange,"  thought  Susan,  "if  this  pretty  crea- 
ture should  be  Cinderclaws." 

The  little  lady  in  the  barouche  was  holding  with  some  difficulty  a 
large  wax  doll,  and  as  she  fondly  caressed  it,  her  soft  voice  sang,  — 

"  Hush  thee,  my  darling, 

Thy  journey  was  drear, 
But  I  bring  you  to  Susan, 
And  why  should  you  fear  ?  " 

There  was  a  short  consultation  among  the  attendants,  when  a  little 
footman  in  scarlet  livery,  let  down  the  steps  like  a  flash,  and  taking 
the  lead  of  twenty  others,  bore  with  some  difficulty  and  much  wiping 


72  STORIES  AND    TALES 

of  brows,  the  doll  to  the  stocking.  Finding  it  impossible  to  get  her 
in,  they  laid  her  on  the  toilet-table,  and  returned  to  the  barouche 
with  a  flourish  of  little  trumpets. 

Another  consultation  followed,  and  the  little  people,  darting  about 
like  fire-flies,  began  to  display  the  contents  of  the  barouche.  Swan, 
fish,  turkey  and  cat  pincushions,  thread-cases  of  all  forms  and  colors, 
implements  of  industry,  from  the  silver-eyed  needle  to  the  gold  in- 
laid work-box,  were  successively  unfolded,  and,  among  other  things, 
Susan  distinguished  a  nice  box  of  French  sugar-plums.  As  the 
breath  of  Cinderclaws  passed  over  them,  everything  looked  fresher 
and  fairer. 

Another  whispering  took  place,  and  Susan  heard  the  words, 

"A  dessert  for  Susan's  dinner-party." 

Quick  as  thought  was  arranged  a  small  polished  table,  with  plates 
for  twelve.  A  taper,  colored  with  rain-bow  hues,  suddenly  shot  up 
in  the  centre,  by  the  side  of  an  iced  pyramid,  on  which  was  a  wav- 
ing flag,  with  the  inscription  — 

"A  Merry  Christmas  and  Happy  New  Year." 

Fruits  of  every  description,  from  the  bead-like  currant  of  the 
North,  to  the  beautiful  pomegranate  of  the  South,  were  deposited 
in  glass  and  silver  dishes  on  the  festive  board. 

"  What  are  you  placing  there  ? "  said  Cinderclaws  suddenly,  as  the 
waiters  were  busily  arranging  little  decanters  at  the  corners,  and  a 
tiny  little  cordial  stand  at  the  head  of  the  table. 

"  A  little  French  cordial,"  answered  one,  consequentially. 

A  frown  rose  to  the  little  brow  of  the  fairy,  like  a  thundercloud  on 
the  blue  sky.  She  rose  suddenly,  and  stamping  her  small  foot  until 
the  barouche  rang  again,  exclaimed,  — 

"How  dare  you  do  this?  If  men  turn  brutes  with  stimulants, 
leave  at  least  temperance  to  the  young.  Bring  here  the  poison," 
she  continued,  her  small  voice  rising  in  worthy  indignation,  "  bring 
it  here,  and  away ! " 


FOR    THE    YOUNG. 


With  both  hands  she  grasped  the  bottles,  and  dashing  them  on 
the  hearth,  shivered  them  to  pieces,  while  the  blushing  liquid  flowed 
around. 

The  awe-struck  attendants  looked  down  in  shame.  A  low  whistle 
sounded ;  the  blanket  slowly  descended,  enveloping  the  barouche ; 
the  peacocks  spread  their  wings,  and  Susan  heard  departing  voices 
chanting  as  the  fairy,  ascended. 

"  Wake  !  wake  !  bonny  birds, 
'Tis  the  dawning  of  day ; 
We  must  flee  from  the  city,  — 
Mount,  mount,  and  away." 

i 

"  Papa,"  said  Susan,  as  she  caressed  a  beautiful  doll  he  had  given 
her  before  breakfast,  f'  I  dreamed  last  night  that  Cinderclaws  be- 
longed to  the  Temperance  Society." 
"  I  hope  it  is  true,"  said  her  father. 


ST.   NICHOLAS. 

A     CHRISTMAS     DREAM. 

ONE  Christmas  Eve,  John  Eggleston  hung  his  stockings  carefully 
by  the  chimney  corner,  and  after  saying  his  prayers,  fell  asleep. 

John  dreamed  that  he  was  in  bed,  peeping  at  his  stocking  over  the 
bed  clothes,  when  he  saw  a  very  pleasant-looking  old  gentleman 
come  down  the  chimney  on  a  nice  little  pony,  precisely  like  one 
named  Lightfoot,  that  his  uncle  Ben  had  promised  to  give  him.  It 
was  funny,  indeed,  to  see  the  pony  slide  down  feet  foremost,  and 
John  laughed  out  in  his  sleep  ;  but  he  laughed  still  louder  when  he 
examined  old  Nicholas,  the  rider. 

His  hair  was  made  of  squibs,  and  as  he  came  nearer  and  nearer 
to  the  lamp  that  stood  on  the  hearth,  pop  went  off  one  of  the  crack- 


74  STOKIES  AND    TALES 

ers,  and  then  another.  St.  Nick  was  not  a  bit  frightened,  —  he  only 
rubbed  his  ears  with  his  coat  sleeve,  patted  the  pony  to  keep  him 
quiet,  and  laughed  till  he  showed  the  concave  of  his  great  mouth  full 
of  sugar-plums. 

John  was  excessively  amused,  and  shouted  so  loud  that  his 
mother  thought  he  had  the  nightmare.  He  watched  the  old  gentle- 
man closely,  and  then  looked  at  his  stocking.  It  hung  very  conven- 
iently. 

"  He  can't  put  the  pony  in  it,"  said  he  to  himself,  "  and  that  is  a 
pity." 

The  old  gentleman's  pockets  stuck  out  prodigiously,  and  he  panted 
*nd  puffed  as  if  he  had  been  cudgelling  an  alligator. 

"  Well,"  said  he,  wiping  the  perspiration  off  his  face,  although  it 
was  cold  December,  "  if  this  is  not  hard  work !  Sixty-five  young- 
sters have  I  called  on  the  last  hour.  Hark  !  the  clock  sounds  down 
the  chimney,  one,  two ;  I  shall  have  a  tough  job  to  pop  down  all  the 
chimneys  in  the  town  before  daylight.  I  wonder  what  this  chap 
would  like  for  a  Christmas  present,"  continued  he,  eyeing  the  stock- 
ing ;  then  putting  his  arms  akimbo,  he  began  to  consider. 

John's  heart  beat. 

"  Good  Mr.  Nicholas,"  said  he  to  himself,  "  if  you  could  only  give 
me  that  pony." 

But  he  kept  quite  still ;  for  he  saw  the  old  man  thrust  his  hands 
into  his  tremendous  pockets. 

"Let  me  see,"  says  old  Nicholas ;  "here  is  a  jack-knife  that  I  was 
to  have  given  to  Tom  Butler  if  he  had  not  quarrelled  with  his  sis- 
ters. Hocus  focus/"  At  this  the  stocking  opened,  and  in  went  the 
jack-knife. 

It  was  the  very  thing  John  wanted. 

Then  the  old  man  pulled  from  his  pockets  twine,  tops,  marbles, 
dissected  maps,  books,  sugar-plums,  and  divers  other  notions,  all  the 
while  talking  to  himself. 


FOR    THE    YOUNG.  75 


"  This  lignumvitae  top,"  said  he,  "  is  for  Tim  Barnwell,  a  clever 
chap,  who  never  tells  lies.  This  line  and  fish-hook  Master  Troup 
must  have  for  his  kind  care  of  his  father  when  he  had  the  gout. 
This  annual  was  for  William  Wiley,  but  the  lad  kicked  his  brother 
and  called  him  a  wicked  name,  so  we  will  lay  it  by  for  Tom  Trout." 

John  thought  he  could  stay  forever  to  see  the  old  gentleman  take 
out  his  knick-knacks,  and  tell  whom  they  were  for ;  but  he  began  to 
be  a  little  frightened  for  his  own  stocking,  when  he  recollected  that 
he  had  been  remiss  in  his  Latin  the  last  quarter. 

"  I  hope  the  old  gentleman  don't  understand  the  classics,"  said 
John  to  himself;  but  he  stopped  short,  for  this  queer  visitor  held 
the  stocking  up  to  his  nose,  saying,  — 

"  I  think  this  lad  loves  gunpowder,  by  the  smell." 

He  then  took  hold  of  his  hair,  and  pulling  out  squibs  by  the 
dozen,  tied  them  up  in  parcels,  and  threw  them  into  the  stocking. 
As  fast  as  he  pulled  them  off,  new  squibs  appeared,  and  hung  down 
over  his  ears  and  forehead. 

"This  accounts  for  the  noise **we  hear  on  Christmas,"  thought 
John.  "  I  never  knew  before  how  squibs  were  made  "  ;  and  he  had 
to  hold  his  sides  for  laughing,  the  old  gentleman  looked  so  droll. 

As  St.  Nicholas  was  stooping  over  the  light  to  put  a  new  supply 
into  the  stocking,  a  great  number  exploded,  and  the  little  pony  giv- 
ing a  start,  disappeared  up  the  chimney. 

John  awoke ;  it  was  just  daybreak.  He  sprang  out  of  bed,  roused 
all  the  family  with  his  "  Merry  Christmas,"  ran  to  the  stable,  and  what 
should  he  see  but  uncle  Ben's  pony,  with  a  bridle  on  his  neck,  on 
which  was  pinned  a  piece  of  paper  written,  — 

"  A  Merry  Christmas,  with  the  pony,  Lightfoot,  for  my  nephew, 
John. 

*  In  all  of  the  Southern  States,  fire-crackers  and  squibs  are  sent  off  at  Christ- 
mas time,  as  well  as  on  the  Fourth  of  July. 


76  STOKIES  AND   TALES 


THE    MASKS. 

LUCILLA  ARMORY,  in  her  sixteenth  year,  was  a  lovely-looking 
creature,  flushed  with  youth  and  beauty,  just  between  the  woman 
and  the  child.  All  hearts  were  taken  by  her  at  a  glance,  she  was  so 
frank,  witty,  and  sparkling.  She  led  the  enjoyments  of  the  young, 
and  enlivened  the  gravity  of  the  old ;  was  the  prime  leader  of 
games,  and  could  guess  conundrums  like  a  sibyl ;  was  apt  at  every- 
thing ;  sang  the  last  new  songs,  chatted  phrases  at  French  stores, 
was  admired,  sought,  and  yet,  alas !  dreaded,  —  for  Lucilla  was  a 
liar  !  I  know  it  is  a  hard  word  to  digest,  but  call  it  by  what  name 
you  will,  whether  white  lying  or  black  lying,  —  disguise  it  in  the  "  not 
at  home"  of  the  busy  housewife,  or  lounging  novel  reader,  cover  it 
up  with  all  the  shades  that  Mrs.  Opie  can  devise,  still,  like  her,  we 
feel  that  lying  is  lying. 

Lucilla's  mother  had  imbibed  !<*>se  notions  on  this  subject.  If 
her  daughter's  wit  set  a  circle  in  a  roar  of  laughter,  or  her  prettiness 
fascinated  them,  it  was  enough  for  her.  Sometimes  the  idea  of  her 
want  of  veracity  startled  her ;  but  she  comforted  herself  by  saying, 
"  Oh,  Lucilla  is  so  young !  what  can  be  expected  of  a  girl  of  fif- 
teen ! " 

Lucilla  was  always  in  extremes.  It  was  either  the  coldest  or  the 
warmest  day  she  ever  felt  in  her  whole  life  ;  a  party  was  delightful 
or  it  was  horrible  ;  a  young  gentleman  was  either  exquisitely  charm- 
ing or  a  stupid  thing ;  a  young  lady  was  a  beauty  or  a  fright. 

This  spirit  of  exaggeration,  as  it  is  apt  to  do  with  females,  ex- 
tended to  numbers.  Everything  increased  on  her  lips  like  Falstaft's 
sixteen  men  in  buckram ;  tens  were  hundreds,  and  hundreds  thou- 
sands. 

Helen  Mortimer  called  on  her  one  day. 


FOR   THE    YOUNG. 


"Why  were  you  not  at  the  Bancrofts'  party  last  night?"  said 
Lucilla. 

"  I  was  not  invited,"  replied  Helen. 

"  Oh,  what  a  pity,"  said  Lucilla ;  "  we  had  a  divine  evening.  I 
danced  every  time,  and  was  invited  six  sets  beforehand." 

"  Indeed ! "  said  Helen.  "  I  understood  there  was  but  one  set 
danced  on  account  of  the  heat  of  the  evening." 

"  Good  heavens  !  Helen,"  said  Lucilla,  "  there  were  at  least  half  a 
dozen.  I  wish  you  had  been  there  to  have  seen  Miss  Triptoe,  from 
New  York.  You  know  how  vulgar  it  is  to  take  steps ;  well,  this 
belle  cut  such  capers  and  leaped  so  high,  that  I  bowed  and  nodded 
to  Miss  Dwindle  under  her  feet  while  she  was  up  in  the  air." 

Helen  cried  out,  "  Oh,  Lucilla ! " 

"  It  is  a  fact,"  said  Lucilla ;  "  you  may  ask  any  of  the  girls.  Oh, 
by  the  way,  have  you  seen  Mary  Donald's  comb  ?  It  beats  the  South 
American  ladies  out  and  out.  I  declare  to  gracious,  it  is  as  high  -as 
grandmother's  mahogany-backed  chair,  that  was  made  before  the  old 
war.  Don't  shake  your  head,  E&elen.  It  was  so  high  (measuring 
from  the  floor  with  her  hand).  They  say  Mary  Donald's  mother 
calls  her  children  together  and  flogs  them  every  morning  before 
breakfast,  to  keep  them  in  order." 

Helen  colored  deeply,  —  "  Mrs.  Donald  is  a  relation  of  ours,  Lu- 
cilla," said  she,  "  and  we  think  her  a  most  estimable  woman.  It  is 
true  that  she  assembles  her  family  every  morning,  but  it  is  to  give 
them  an  opportunity  of  attending  religious  worship." 

"Good  powers!"  exclaimed  Lucilla,  "who  would  have  thought 
that  you  were  related  !  It  must  have  been  Mrs.  —  " 

"  Stop,"  said  Helen,  "  I  will  not  listen  to  any  more  calumny.  You 
know  that  you  are  slandering,  and  that  such  remarks  often  fix  a  stain 
on  any  individual  which  only  time  can  wipe  away." 

Lucilla  trotted  her  foot  in  some  excitement,  and  took  her  turn  to 
blush.  As  Helen  rose  to  go,  she  asked  if  she  had  seen  her  bell-ropes. 


STORIES  AND    TALES 


"  No,  they  are  beautiful  indeed,"  said  Helen  ;  "  how  ingeniously 
you  have  shaded  them." 

"  I  am  glad  you  like  them,"  said  Lucilla  ;  "  see  how  my  finger  is 
marked  with  the  needle." 

At  that  moment  her  mother  entered. 

"  What,  Miss  Helen,"  said  she,  "  admiring  my  worsted  work  ?  I 
tried  to  persuade  this  lazy  child  to  help  me,  but  she  would  not." 

Helen  immediately  took  her  leave. 

Lucilla  was  passing  her  last  quarter  at  a  school,  and  her  fine  mind 
was  rapidly  opening  under  all  the  advantages  of  education. 

By  some  unwarrantable  calumny,  she  had  caused  the  disgrace  of 
a  schoolmate,  and  the  indignation  of  her  class  was  so  great  she  was 
glad  to  return  home.  Towards  twilight  rjer  parents  were  absent, 
and  as  it  was  a  sultry  evening,  she  seated  herself  in  the  piazza.. 

Absorbed  in  a  kind  of  reverie,  she  was  startled  by  the  tread  of 
many  feet,  and  lifting  her  eyes,  she  saw  a  procession  of  figures  slowly 
enter  the  porch,  and  arrange  themselves  against  the  balustrade,  with 
their  faces  towards  her.  A  strange  and  horrible  variety  appeared 
in  their  countenances.  Some  looked  dark  and  sullen,  others  dis- 
torted and  malicious  ;  some  turned  half  aside  with  a  glance  of  tri- 
umph, and  others  leered  with  gestures  of  disgusting  familiarity. 
The  line  extended  to  the  extremity  of  the  building,  gradually  soften- 
ing from  ferocity  to  beauty,  and  as  her  eyes  recoiling  from  the  nearer 
bent  to  the  most  distant  objects,  distinguished  a  majestic  form  hold- 
ing a  torch,  whose  clear  beautiful  eyes  seemed  to  penetrate  her 
thoughts. 

A  restless  silence  pervaded  her  followers,  while  the  figure  w.ith 
the  torch,  approaching  Lucilla  with  a  firm  and  measured  tread, 
addressed  her  thus,  — 

"  I  am  Truth.  Alas  !  that  I  should  be  a  stranger  to  one  so  young 
and  fair.  These  are  my  attendants,  and  though  forbidding  in  aspect 
they  perform  my  will.  All  the  shades  of  falsehood  are  represented 


FOR   THE    YOUNG.  79 


on  these  faces,  from  the  first  exaggerated  word  to  the  crime  of  slan- 
der. They  will  follow  you  unseen  j  for  slight  offences  the  least 
deformed  will  become  visible,  but  should  you  injure  any  one,  expect 
to  see  their  avenging  eyes  peering  into  yours  in  the  domestic  circle 
and  the  sparkling  ball-room." 

As  she  said  these  words,  some  of  the  vilest  faces  turned  eagerly 
towards  her  as  if  already  claiming  her  as  their  own. 

"  Before  we  part,"  said  Truth,  "  let  me  warn  you  that  your  very 
exclamations  are  deceitful.  Whom  do  you  address  when  you  say, 
'  My  Heavens  !  Great  Goodness  !  Good  Gracious  ! '  Do  you  invoke 
the  Deity  ?  You  shudder,  and  say  no.  Beware,  then,  how  you  take 
His  name  in  vain,  for  such  language  belongs  only  to  Him." 

"Lucilla,"  continued  she,  "these  are  masks  which  terrify  you. 
When  you  conform  to  truth,  you  will  know  her  followers  and  see 
them  as  you  do  me." 

Lucilla  looked  eagerly  at  her.  Resplendent  indeed  was  Truth. 
Her  torch,  whose  clear  and  steady  beam  was  colored  with  variegated 
rays,  threw  a  glory  over  her  form,  and  seemed  to  light  the  way 
through  her  serene  eyes  to  her  very  soul.  A  veil  was  thrown  over 
her  graceful  limbs,  revealing  with  modesty  their  fine  proportions. 
Not  an  ornament  was  on  her  person,  but  there  she  stood  glorious  in 
simple  beauty. 

"  Authority,  with  grace 
Of  awfulness,  was  in  her  face." 

Intently  gazing  on  Lucilla,  she  remained  awhile  silent,  then  turn- 
ing to  the  fantastic  procession,  she  said,  — 

"Ye  know  my  signals.  Calumnia,  I  wave  my  torch  thrice  and 
again  for  thee ;  Deceptia,  thrice  for  thee ;  Exaggeratia,  twice  for 
thee  ;  Flatterania,  one  flash  for  thee  ;  disappear." 

A  momentary  rush  was  heard,  and  Lucilla  sat  alone. 

Lucilla  retired  to  rest  that  night  with  a  disturbed  conscience; 


80  STORIES  AND    TALES 

there  was  a  dread  at  her  heart  that  made  her  cling  to  her  young 
sister,  who  slept  with  her  for  companionship. 

"  I  will  be  very  careful  of  my  words  and  conduct,"  thought  she  ; 
but  she  did  not  pray  nor  look  to.  the  "  Rock  of  Ages  "  for  aid. 

She  slept  and  forgot  her  resolutions ;  forgot  the  God  who  never 
sleeps.  The  sun  rose  bright  and  lovely,  but  no  beam  of  thankful- 
ness dwelt  in  her  heart ;  her  form  moved  in  strength  and  beauty, 
but  no  gratitude  breathed  from  her  lips.  Sleep  was  to  her  like  night 
oh  a  flower ;  it  tinged  her  cheek,  enlivened  her  eye,  but  nothing 
more.  Oh,  how  dreadful  is  the  sleep  of  the  soul !  The  bird  may 
spring  aloft  with  its  matin  song  thoughtless  of  its  powers  ;  the  leaf 
may  lie  open  to  the  sun  unconscious  who  colors  it  with  emerald 
beauty ;  the  stream  may  glide  in  soft  meanderings  ignorant  of  Him 
who<bids  it  rise  in  the  mountains  and  rush  to  the -sea;  but  shall 
they,  whose  young  minds  are  fresh  from  the  Creator,  whose  first  leaf 
of  sin  is  almost  unwritten,  whose  souls  are  capable  of  celestial  sym- 
pathy, —  shall  they  rise  from  sleep  untouched  by  the  thought  of  a 
protecting  Deity? 

Lucilla  repaired  as  usual  to  the  academy,  and  by  her  application 
gained  the  praise  of  her  teachers.  When  the  young  ladies  retired 
at  the  customary  hour  of  recess,  she  was  attracted  by  a  bead  bag 
which  one  of  her  schoolmates  was  embroidering.  It  was  a  libel  on 
taste ;  the  sheep  were  as  tall  as  the  men,  a  waterfall  stood  as  still 
as  if  the  earth's  attraction  was  suspended,  and  a  shepherdess  held 
something  which  might  have"  been  called  a  stick  as  well  as  a  crook. 

"  My  dear  Sarah,"  said  Lucilla,  "  what  a  pretty  idea !  where  did 
you  get  that  pattern  ?  Do  draw  it  for  me.  I  declare  I  shall  not 
rest  until  —  " 

Before  she  could  conclude  her  sentence  a  flash  of  light  startled 
her,  and  on  recovering  from  the  glare  she  saw  the  face  of  Flatter- 
ania  over  Sarah's  shoulder.  Her  head  was  fantastically  ornamented 
with  feathers.  She  held  a  fan  with  a  simper  to  her  lips  and  nodded 
and  beckoned  to  Lucilha  with  an  air  of  familiarity. 


FOR    THE    YOUNG.  8 1 


Lucilla  felt  faint  at  this  recognition  and  suddenly  returning  to  her 
desk  pursued  her  studies  in  silence. 

Lucilla  was  entertaining  her  friends  one  afternoon  with  an  account 
of  her  father's  sumptuous  style  of  Hying. 

"  We  always  have  three  courses,  and  invariably  ice-cream,"  said 
she,  and  busily  talking,  perceived  not  two  flashes  of  light  that  played 
through  the  apartment.  "  What  allowance  of  spending  money  do 
you  have,  Arabella  ? "  continued  she  to  one  of  the  girls. 

"  Twelve  and  a  half  cents  a  week,"  was  the  answer. 

"  Mercy !  how  little,"  said  Lucilla ;  "  my  father  gives  me  a  dollar." 

Two  soft  flashes  of  light  crossed  her  eyes  and  revealed  a  figure 
which  she  knew  to  be  Exaggeratia.  She  held  in  her  hand  a  mag- 
nifying glass,  and  as  she  glided  with  rapid  steps  past  Lucilla,  the 
frightened  girl  saw  her  own  features  enlarged  to  an  immense  size. 
She  was  hushed  in  a  moment  and  the  figure  disappeared. 

A  few  days  passed  without  a  visit  from  her  visionary  rebukers, 
until  one  evening  Lucilla  was  desirous  of  wearing  a  ribbon-belt  to  a 
party,  to  which  her  mother  had  objected.  She  dressed  herself  ac- 
cording to  her  mother's  wishes,  but  after  bidding  her  good-by,  ran 
up-stairs  softly  to  her  drawer  and  taking  the  forbidden  belt  hastily 
fastened  it  around  her  waist.  Three  flashes  of  light  illuminated  the 
room,  and  a  female  figure  appeared  in  whose  countenance  two  faces 
seemed  joined  together. 

The  two  mouths  spoke  together,  "  Deception,  Miss,  at  your  service. 
Have  you  any  commands  ? " 

Lucilla  threw  down  the  belt  in  terror  and  wore  the  sash  directed 
by  her  mother. 

Several  articles  had  from  time  to  time  been  missed  from  Mr. 
Armory's  premises,  and  suspicion  fell  on  the  house-servant,  Amos, 
who  was  familiar  with  the  establishment. 

The  apprehensions  of  the  family  were  again  excited  by  the  loss  of 
some  silver  spoons.  Lucilla's  lively  imagination  fixed  at  once  on 


82  STORIES  AND    TALES 

Amos  as  the  thief,  and  from  talking  about  it  unhesitatingly,  she  be- 
gan to  believe  that  it  was  actually  the  case.  Her  assertions  were  so 
positive,  that  Amos  was  regarded  with  distrust  and  aversion. 

Her  father  questioned  her  on  the  subject,  and  said  seriously, — 

"  Lucilla,  have  you  reason  to  believe  that  Amos  is  a  thief? " 

"  Certainly,  sir.  Do  you  not  remember  the  umbrella,  the  walking- 
stick  ? "  and  she  went  on  enumerating  other  abstracted  articles. 

"  But  that  is  not  to  the  point,  my  dear,"  said  he  ;  "  have  you  ever 
seen  Amos  take  what  does  not  belong  to  him  ? " 

Oh,  why  did  not  Calumnia  appear  at  this  fatal  moment  ? 

Lucilla  hesitated,  but  her  foolish  and  wicked  love  of  excitement 
was  too  strong,  and  she  replied,  — 

"Yes,  father,  very  often  ;  but  I  did  not  like  to  tell  you  about  it." 

Amos  was  instantly  summoned  and  committed  to  the  work-house. 

Lucilla  had  not  calculated  on  this,  for  her  feelings  were  tender 
and  she  could  not  bear  to  have  any  one  suffer.  She  burst  into  tears 
and  pleaded  for  the  release  of  Amos  with  all  the  eloquence  in  her 
power.  She  even  suggested  the  idea  of  his  innocence ;  but  Mr. 
Armory,  knowing  her  habit  of  prevarication,  thought  she  spoke  only 
from  impulse  and  would  not  heed  her. 

The  grandmother  of  Amos  had  been  a  nurse  in  the  family  of  Mr. 
Armory  for  many  years,  until  her  intellect  became  disordered  in  her 
old  age ;  but  though  her  usefulness  was  gone,  the  strong  ties  of 
child's  nurse  united  her  to  the  family. 

Hagar  was  nearly  seventy  years  old  ;  tall,  erect,  with  eyes  full  of 
that  strange  light  that  beams  out  from  a  disordered  intellect  like 
phosphorescence  from  animal  decay.  Sometimes  she*  closed  the 
shutters  of  her  apartment  and  addressed  "  the  spirits  "  through  small 
crevices  where  the  light  entered.  Sometimes  she  sat  for  hours  on  a 
bench  in  the  sun,  with  her  hands  clasped,  reeling  to  and  fro,  singing 
psalms.  But  Hagar's  delight  was  her  church.  A  nice  wrapper,  a 
white  handkerchief  crossed  over  her  bosom,  and  an  apron  pinned 


FOR    THE    YOUNG.  83 


on  without  injuring  one  of  its  starched  folds,  with  a  check  turban 
carefully  tied  over  her  gray  hairs,  formed  her  Sunday  toilet.  Slight- 
ing the  seats  in  the  gallery,  her  favorite  one  was  in  the  porch  of  the 
broad  aisle,  where,  sitting  a  little  forward  on  a  bench  in  the  rear  of 
the  first  pew,  she  could  see  the  preacher.  When  a  hymn  was  com- 
menced, she  rose,  clasped  her  hands  and  inclined  her  body  forward ; 
at  the  end  of  every  verse  she  courtesied,  bending  lower  and  lower 
until  the  close.  Sometimes,  particularly  at  the  dismissal  hymn,  she 
advanced  with  a  measured  step  up  the  aisle,  gently  waving  her 
clasped  hands,  and  courtesying,  until  led  back  by  an  observing  friend. 

Lucilla  was  a  favorite  of  Hagar's,  and  possessed  more  control  over 
her  than  any  other  person.  For  some  time  after  being  informed  of 
her  grandson's  disgrace,  her  passions  were  unusually  roused  and 
Lucilla  was  sent  for  to  soothe  her.  The  wretched  girl  herself  needed 
consolation,  for  conscience  began  to  be  busy.  She  went,  however, 
to  Hagar's  room  one  day  and  found  her  in  the  attitude  of  listening. 

"  Hush !  "  said  she,  "  don't  you  hear  my  boy  ? " 

Lucilla  wept  bitterly. 

"  Are  you  so  sorry,"  said  Hagar,  "for  a  thief? " 

"  Amos  ain't  sorry  for  the  old  woman's  gray  hairs  "  ;  and  pushing 
aside  her  cap,  she  showed  the  crisp,  white  curls  that  edged  her  fore- 
head. 

At  this  moment  Amos  entered  after  his  punishment.  He  threw 
himself  on  a  bench  with  his  head  on  his  knees  and  groaned  bitterly. 

"Thief!  thief!"  screamed  the  old  woman. 

"I  swear  to  heaven  I'm  not  a  thief,  grandma,"  said  the  poor 
fellow. 

A  servant  suddenly  rushed  in  and  informed  them  that  the  real  cul- 
prit had  been  discovered  and  that  Amos  was  innocent. 

A  wild  scream  of  joy  burst  from  Hagar  at  this  intelligence  and, 
aiming  to  spring  towards  her  grandson  with  extended  arms,  she  fell. 
The  chords  of  life  were  broken,  —  old  Hagar  was  dead. 


84  STORIES  AND    TALES 

Four  vivid  flashes  of  light  illuminated  her  stiffened  form,  and 
Calumnia,  with  a  shout  of  triumph,  stood  beside  her.  In  her  shriv- 
elled right  hand  she  held  a  poisoned  arrow  and  in  the  other  a  bleed- 
ing heart 

Wild  with  terror,  Lucilla  flew  from  the  scene  and  weeping  in  her 
father's  arms  confessed  the  crime  of  slander. 


Months  elapsed  and  Lucilla's  character  had  changed  from  idle 
trifling  to  thoughtful  truth.  She  was  sitting  one  evening  in  the 
piazza  reflecting  on  the  past  and  seeking  aid  for  the  future,  when 
the  masked  figures  of  her  former  vision  appeared  before  her. 

"  Lucilla,"  said  Truth  with  a  gentle  tone,  "  I  need  not  now  tell 
you  who  I  am.  You  know  me.  Has  my  lesson  been  too  severe  ? 
You  will  not  think  so  if  you  are  wholly  mine." 

She  approached  nearer  to  the  now  really  lovely  girl,  —  lovely  with 
the  beauty  of  soul,  —  and  gazed  into  her  eyes.  Lucilla  shrank  not ; 
Truth  laid  her  cool,  firm  hand  against  Lucilla's  heart.  It  fluttered 
not 

"  You  are  mine,"  said  Truth ;  and,  saying  this,  she  breathed  a 
breath  as  odorous  as  infancy's  upon  an  adamantine  seal  and  touched 
it  to  Lucilla's  coral  lips,  and  then  passed  her  hand  with  a  slow  and 
gentle  pressure  on  Lucilla's  eyes.  They  opened  on  the  visionary  train 
whose  falling  masks  were  revealing  sweet,  unclouded  faces,  reflected 
in  polished  mirrors.  There  was  no  deformity  now  ;  with  chaste  and 
gentle  motion  they  glided  on  and  the  smiling  welcome  they  gave  her 
shone  from  mirror  to  mirror,  until  the  beautiful  vision  passed  away. 

It  was  gone  and  the  stars  of  evening  looked  pleasantly  down  on 
Lucilla's  placid  soul. . 


FOR    THE    YOUNG.  8$ 


THE   WAGON   BOY. 

ONE  clear  wintry  Saturday,  Richard  Edwards  accompanied  his 
father  on  a  hunting  excursion.  They  were  unsuccessful,  but  com- 
forted themselves  with  the  jokes  which  good-natured  sportsmen 
make  on  each  other  when  they  return  from  the  chase  empty-handed. 
They  were  a  mile  from  any  habitation,  and  had  taken  a  short  cut 
through  the  woods,  when  Richard  called  — 

"  Stop,  father ;  I  hear  sounds  of  distress." 

Mr.  Edwards  reined  in  his  horse  and  listened. 

"I  perceive  nothing,"  said  he,  "but  the  forest  birds  that  gather 
at  night-fall.  But  hark !  so,  Fido,  down  boy,"  continued  he  to  a 
hound  which  was  leaping  up  at  his  side. 

A  wild,  but  child-like  sob  of  agony  burst  distinctly  on  their  ears. 

"  We  must  look  into  this,  Richard,"  said  his  father ;  and  starting 
in  the  direction  of  the  sound,  he  was  followed  by  his  son. 

As  they  rode  over  the  uncleared  space,  they  heard  at  intervals  the 
same  cry,  and  they  were  soon  near  enough  to  perceive  the  object 
of  their  search.  In  one  of  the  turnouts  made  through  the  woods 
by  wagoners,  they  perceived  a  country  team  ;  and  near  it,  extended 
on  the  sand,  lay  a  man  with  the  cold,  stern  countenance  of  death, 
while  a  youth  of  fifteen,  kneeling  on  one  side  with  his  head  resting 
on  the  silent  breast,  sobbed  as  if  his  heart  would  break,  and  a  dog 
looked  wistfully,  as  if  he  knew  the  helplessness  of  his  master  and 
the  anguish  of  the  boy. 

At  the  sound  of  footsteps,  the  youth  sprang  up. 

"  Sir,"  he  cried,  "  can  you  save  my  father  ?     Save  him,  save  him ! " 

Mr.  Edwards  alighted  from  his  horse  and  approached  the  body. 
It  had  all  the  marks  of  death,  —  the  cold  and  shrunk  countenance, 
the  appalling  repose  of  mortality  bereft  of  soul.  The  eyes  of  the 


86  STOKIES  AND    TALES 

youth  brightened  with  eager  hope  as  Mr.  Edwards  felt  the  pulse  and 
breast  of  the  deceased.  There  was  no  answering  sympathy  in  his 
look  ;  he  shook  his  head  mournfully,  and  said,  "  My  poor  fellow !  " 

The  wagon  boy  threw  himself  on  the  body  of  his  father,  and  gave 
that  cry  of  deep  and  wailing  sorrow  that  God  allows  to  the  crowded 
heart  to  keep  it  from  breaking.  The  cold  wind  swept  by  with  a 
wintry  gust  and  seemed  faintly  to  echo  his  subsiding  moan. 

Richard  took  his  hand. 

"  We  will  try  to  comfort  you,  my  poor  lad,"  said  he. 

"  Father,  shall  he  go  home  with  us  ? " 

"  What,  leave  him  ?  "  said  the  wagon  boy,  clinging  to  his  father, 
while  a  deep  shuddering  shook  his  frame. 

"  No,"  said  Mr.  Edwards  gently,  "  you  shall  not  leave  him  ;  but 
would  it  not  relieve  your  mind  to  see  him  laid  in  a  decent  grave  ? " 

Mr.  Edwards  had  touched  a  string  that  finds  an  answering  chord 
in  every  heart. 

The  wagon  boy  silently  rose,  passed  his  arm  across  his  eyes,  from 
which  the  large  tears  still  rolled,  and,  assisted  by  Mr.  Edwards,  placed 
the  body  on  the  wagon. 

The  sad  procession  moved  along  and  reached  the  ferry-boat  in 
time  to  pass  to  town. 

Mr.  Edwards  was  rich  and  generous.  He  clothed  the  wagon  boy 
in  appropriate  garments  the  following  day,  and  walked  with  Richard 
as  mourner  to  the  grave.  The  faithful  dog  mutely  followed,  and 
when  the  wagon  boy  returned  from  the  mournful  ceremony,  he  laid 
himself  down  by  the  side  of  the  poor  brute,  and  throwing  his  arms 
around  the  animal,  hid  his  swollen  eyes  upon  his  neck,  as  if  he  only 
could  understand  his  feelings. 

For  many  days  they  tried  to  comfort  him  in  vain,  for  religious 
emotions  were  new  to  him  ;  but  when  Mr.  Edwards  explained  to 
him  the  resurrection  and  the  life,  and  Richard  read  to  him  those 
sublime  and  touching  portions  of  Scripture  which  tell  us  that  afflic- 


FOR    THE    YOUNG  8/ 


tions  are  not  of  the  dust,  and  that  whom  the  Lord  loveth  he  chas- 
teneth,  the  wagon  boy  was  comforted.  He  returned  to  his  home 
sad  but  resigned ;  and  Richard,  too,  was  taught  a  reliance  on  Provi- 
dence, that  was  often  renewed  when  he  rode  by  the  spot  where  the 
cry  of  the  wagon  boy  first  pierced  his  ear. 


A     SULLIVAN'S     ISLAND     STORY. 

"  FATHER  says  he  will  take  us  all  to  the  island  this  afternoon," 
said  Edward  Marion,  with  a  shout  that  reached  his  sisters  in  the 
third  story  of  their  residence. 

None  but  those  who  have  passed  a  languid  August  morning  in 
Charleston,  S.  C.,  can  tell  what  an  effort  it  costs  to  prepare  a  large 
family  for  the  four-o'clock  steamer.  But  Mrs.  Marion  was  a  good 
manager,  and  they  were  all  in  the  carriage  in  season,  with  the  loss 
only  of  Sophia's  mit,  and  Charlotte's  basket  for  shells.  John,  who 
was  thinker-general  for  all  the  group,  foreseeing  this  difficulty,  had 
provided  a  basket  large  enough  for  both,  which  was  in  the  hands  of 
a  bright-looking  little  colored  boy,  who,  being  just  from  the  country, 
wished  to  see  "  dem  big  boat  what  trow  up  fire." 

When  on  board  the  steamer,  Charlotte  drew  near  her  father  and 
whispered,  "  You  promised  you  would  tell  us  something  about  the 
revolutionary  war  when  we  should  go  to  the  island." 

"  Yes,  my  dear,"  said  her  father,  "  and  I  will  gladly  keep  my  word. 
You  must  first  imagine  all  those  large  buildings  on  the  wharves  re- 
moved, and  fortifications  placed  along  from  South  bay  to  Cooper 
river." 

"  Did  they  pull  down  the  stores,  father  ? "  said  Sophia. 

"  Yes,  my  daughter,"  answered  Mr.  Marion.  "  It  is  necessary  to 
place  fortifications  between  the  buildings  of  a  city  and  the  enemy. 
You  know  the  Charlestonians,  in  1776,  expected  the  British  frigates 


88  STOKIES  AND    TALES 

would  come  up  to  town.  But  stay,  —  who  is  this  old  gentleman  com- 
ing on  board  ?  Is  it  possible  !  Captain  Cowpens,  I  am  most  happy 
to  see  you ! "  and  Mr.  Marion  shook  hands  cordially  with  the  old 
gentleman,  whose  bronzed  face  and  suit  of  blue  homespun  indicated 
an  up-country  farmer. 

"  Thank  you,  Mr.  Marion,"  said  the  captain.  "  You  see  my  eyes 
are  not  so  bad,  but  that  I  can  recognize  an  old  friend.  I  thought 
to  have  ended  my  days  at  the  High  Hills  ;  but  your  steamboats  and 
your  railroads  have  tempted  me  to  come  and  take  a  look  at  what  is 
going  on  hereabouts.  Ah,  if  General  Lee  could  have  had  a  steamer, 
when  he  went  from  town  to  take  a  peep  at  Moultrie,  in  the  fight  of 
'76,  he  would  have  been  a  happy  fellow! " 

"  My  dear  children,"  said  Mr.  Marion,  introducing  them,  "  Captain 
Cowpens  is  the  very  man  to  gratify  you  with  anecdotes  of  the  Revo- 
lution. He  has  had  real  fighting,  while  I  have  only 

1  Shouldered  my  cane,  and  told  how  fields  were  won.'  " 

"  We  should  be  delighted  if  he  would  tell  us  all  about  the  war," 
they  exclaimed. 

The  old  captain  said,  "  Happy  to  gratify  the  young  people.  In- 
quiring minds,  hey  ?  Well,  you  must  know  there  were  lying  off  the 
island  several  British  vessels,  full  of  Red  Coats  ;  reg'lars,  —  knowing 
ones.  Let  me  see,"  said  he,  counting  on  his  fingers  ;  "  there  was  the 
Bristol,  fifty  guns ;  the  Experiment,  fifty  guns ;  the  Active,  twenty- 
eight  guns ;  the  Solebay,  twenty-eight  guns ;  the  Syren,  twenty-eight 
guns  ;  the  Acteon,  twenty-eight  guns  ;  the  Sphinx,  twenty-eight  guns ; 
the  Friendship,  twenty-six  guns ;  the  Rangers'  sloop  and  Thunder 
Bomb,  each  eight  guns.  But  what  did  we  care  for  them  ?  General 
Moultrie  was  not  a  man  to  start  at  —  "  (Here  the  steam  was  raised 
with  its  usual  noise.)  The  captain,  quite  frightened,  exclaimed, 
"  Hey !  what's  that  ?  (Whizz,  bizz,  sizz !)  Smoke  and  thunder ! 
what's  the  matter?" 


FOR    THE    YOUNG  89 


Charlotte,  whispering  to  John,  said,  — 

"  Captain  Cowpens  does  not  stand  fire  so  well  as  he  did  in  '76." 

Captain  Cowpens  was  too  experienced  a  veteran  to  be  long  agi- 
tated by  noise  and  smoke.  He  gazed  composedly  on  the  dense 
column,  that  rose  like  a  living  thing  on  the  air,  and  floated  off  in 
gentle  circles  on  the  distant  sky,  and  then,  nodding  his  head,  as 
much  as  to  say,  "  this  beats  everything,"  sat  down,  with  both  hands 
resting  on  his  hickory  cane. 

After  meditating  a  moment,  he  took  a  long  pinch  of  snuff  The 
children  wondered  that  any  man  could  make  a  good-looking  nose 
such  a  receptacle. 

"  He  was  in  the  old  war,"  said  Edward,  "  and  we  must  forgive  him 
everything." 

"  I  suppose,  boys,"  said  Captain  Cowpens,  after  he  had  diffused, 
rather  than  removed  the  snuff  on  his  face,  and  scattered  it  so  freely 
that  black  Billy  who  stood  behind  him  began  to  sneeze :  "  I  sup- 
pose we  must  talk  about  '76.  Do  the  young  folks  know  anything 
about  General  Lee  ? " 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  Edward,  promptly.  "He  was  born  in  North 
Wales,  in  Great  Britain,  and  became  an  officer  at  the  age  of  eleven. 
He  came  to  New  York  in  1773,  to  fight  for  the  Americans.  He  was 
made  commander  of  the  Southern  forces,  and  inspired  the  people 
with  great  confidence." 

Captain  Cowpens  clapped  him  on  the  shoulder,  saying,  "Very 
well,  my  boy ;  I  like  to  see  a  lad  with  his  wits  about  him.  To  be 
sure  his  presence  did  put  us  in  great  spirits.  Colonel  Moultrie  said 
it  was  equal  to  a  reinforcement  of  a  thousand  men.  He  was  here, 
there,  and  everywhere ;  and  though  he  was  mighty  quick-tempered, 
we  soon  got  used  to  that.  I  remember  him  well.  He  was  a  tall 
man,  and  his  face  was  not  agreeable.  When  he  chose,  he  could  be 
gentlemanly;  but  he  was  often  coarse,  and  in  his  latter  years,  was 
very  slovenly  in  his  dress.  He  said  sharp  things,  and  made  enemies, 


9O  STOKIES  AND    TALES 

though  those  who  are  judges  of  such  things  called  him  a  bright 
scholar.  He  was  a  great  lover  of  dogs,  and  often  annoyed  the  ladies 
with  them.  He  had  a  poor  opinion  of  Sullivan's  Island,  —  said  there 
was  no  way  to  retreat,  and  called  it  a  —  " 

"Oh!  I  remember,"  said  Sophia;  "he  called  it- 'a  slaughter 
pen.' " 

"  So  he  did,  miss,"  continued  the  captain.  He  would  have  given 
up  the  post  if — " 

"  What  does  giving  up  the  post  mean  ? "  asked  Sophia.  "  What 
do  they  do  with  posts  in  war  ? " 

"  You  little  simpleton,"  said  Captain  Cowpens.  "  Do  you  not  know 
what  a  post  is  ? " 

"  Certainly,  sir ; "  said  Sophia,  pertly,  "  I  do.  It  is  a  long  stick 
that  you  drive  into  the  ground." 

"  You  little  goose,"  said  the  captain.  "  You  know,  Miss  Charlotte, 
don't  you  ? " 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  Charlotte ;  "  a  military  station,  where  soldiers 
stay." 

"  Yes  ;  that  is  it,  my  dear,"  said  the  captain.  "  A  post  to  drive 
in  the  ground  —  eh  ? "  chucking  Sophia  under  the  chin,  who  looked 
rather  offended.  "  Let  me  see,  —  we  were  talking  about  General 
Lee.  Rutledge,  President  of  the  General  Assembly  of  South  Caro- 
lina, would  not  let  him  give  up  the  Island.  Then  General  Lee 
ordered  a  bridge  to  be  made  of  empty  hogsheads,  after  the-  manner 
of  buoys,  over  to  Haddrel's  Point,  where  there  was  a  good  stand  of 
men.  After  the  hogsheads  were  steadied,  the  workmen  put  planks 
across  them,  the  whole  way.  Colonel  Clark  set  out  from  Haddrel's 
with  200  men,  and  before  they  were  half  on,  the  hogsheads  began 
to  sink  lower  and  lower,  and  back  they  huddled,  as  fast  as  if  the 
enemy  had  been  at  their  heels. 

"Colonel  Moultrie  was  as  easy  as  possible, — joked  about  the 
bridge,  and  considered  himself  able  to  defend  his  post,  —  eh,  Miss 


FOR    THE    YOUNG.  9 1 


Sophy  ?  General  Lee  was  very  uneasy  about  the  Island,  and  doubted 
Colonel  Moultrie's  prudence.  Even  during  the  action  on  the  28th, 
when  the  British  were  firing  like  vengeance,  he  came  down  from 
town,  and  pointed  two  or  three  guns  himself.  But  from  that  moment 
he  seemed  to  feel  confidence,  and  said,  '  Colonel,  I  see  you  are  doing 
very  well  here  ;  you  have  no  occasion  for  me  ;  I  will  go  up  to  town 
again.'  He  left  us,  then,  in  the  midst  of  a  heavy  fire.  When  he  was 
observed  to  be  coming,  Colonel  Moultrie  and  several  other  officers 
were  smoking  their  pipes  as  they  were  giving  orders ;  but  when 
General  Lee  came  into  the  post,  they  thought  best  to  lay  them  down. 

"After  the  28th,  Colonel  Moultrie  said  that  he  and  Lee  were 
bosom  friends."  . 

"  Father,"  said  John,  "  Edward  told  us  that  General  Lee  was  made 
an  officer  at  eleven  years  of  age.  How  can  that  be  ? " 

"Persons  of  wealth  and  influence,"  replied  his  father,  "secure 
commissions  and  titles  for  their  children,  that  they  may  enter  the 
sen-ice  as  soon  as  their  education  is  completed." 

"  Can  you  tell  us  any  thing  more  of  General  Lee,"  said  Charlotte 
to  her  father. 

"  My  children,"  replied  Mr.  Marion  ;  "  General  Lee  gained  great 
fame  by  his  wisdom  and  bravery  in  conducting  the  southern  cam- 
paign ;  but  he  has  not  left  behind  him  a  reputation  to  be  envied. 
How  much  superior  is  true  goodness  to  bravery,  though  a  good  man 
will  generally  be  brave.  General  Lee  was  disgraced  in  the  United 
States  army  for  disobedience  of  orders,  misbehavior  before  the  ene- 
my and  disrespect  to  General  Washington.  He  retired  to  an 
estate  in  Virginia,  lived  secluded  in  a  small  hovel  and  died  in  ob- 
scurity. The  part  he  took  in  securing  our  independence  claims  a 
sigh  at  the  thought  of  his  lonely  and  distant  grave.  His  last  words 
were,  '  Stand  by  me,  my  brave  grenadiers ! '  How  much  more 
affecting,  at  that  solemn  moment,  would  have  been  an  appeal  to  his 
God,  and  an  expression  of  trust  in  his  Redeemer." 


92  STORIES  AND    TALES 

There  was  silence  in  the  little  group  as  they  reflected  on  Mr. 
Marion's  words,  which  was  broken  by  John's  exclaiming,  "  Castle 
Pinckney,  father !  how  soon  we  are  abreast  of  it ! " 

"  Heigh !  what  is  this  ? "  said  Captain  Cowpens.  "  That  tight 
piece  of  brick  and  mortar  was  not  here  in  '76.  Ah  !  friend  Marion, 
these  changes  make  us  feel  old." 

Mr.  Marion  looked  a  little  nervous  at  the  word  us,  and  rubbed  his 
hair,  as  if,  like  a  blind  man,  he  could  feel  colors. 

Captain  Cowpens  could  not  take  his  eyes  from  Castle  Pinckney ; 
and  a  beautiful  object  it  is,  sitting  like  an  ocean  bird  amid  the  noisy 
solitude  of  dashing  waters. 

"  I  should  love  to  live  there,"  said  Charlotte,  whispering  to  her 
mother,  "  and  hear  the  music  of  the  winds  and  waves." 

"  I  remember,"  said  the  captain,  after  musing  a  little  while,  "  they 
used  to  say  that  there  lived  on  that  spot,  before  the  year  1752,  an 
old  man  and  his  daughter,  who  kept  a  tea-house  where  parties  of 
pleasure  resorted  from  Charleston  to  spend  the  evening  and  drink 
tea;  that  the  house  was  washed  away  by  the  gale  of  1752,  and  the 
old  man  certainly  was  drowned,  and  probably  his  daughter  also." 

"  Its  history  since  that  period,"  said  Mr.  Marion,  "  is  soon  told. 
It  remained  unoccupied  from  1752  to  1780,  when  Charleston  was 
besieged  by  the  British  forces  under  the  command  of  Sir  Henry 
Clinton,  and  they  erected  a  battery  under  the  supervision  of  Colonel 
Moncricff,  engineer,  and  called  it  Mud  Fort.  This  fort,  of  course, 
was  held  by  the  British  as  long  as  they  held  Charleston.  After  the 
revolutionary  war,  in  1798,  and  during  the  administration  of  Mr. 
Adams,  in  anticipation  of  a  war  in  France,  our  government  erected 
a  fort  or  castle  and  denominated  it  Castle  Pinckney,  in  compliment 
to  Charles  Cotesworth  Pinckney,  ambassador  to  France,  who  just 
about  that  time  returned  home.  Charles  Pinckney  was  at  the  same 
time  governor  of.  South  Carolina,  but  the  compliment  was  paid  to 
the  ambassador.  This  fort  had  not  been  built  upon  a  stable  founda- 


FOR   THE   YOUNG.  93 


tion,  for  it  was  some  time  aftenvards  washed  away.  The  present 
fort,  or  castle,  was  built,  in  the  year  1811,  by  Mr.  John  Gordon,  a 
resident  of  Charleston,  and  was  erected  in  anticipation  of  a  war  with 
Great  Britain,  which  was  declared  the  year  after." 

While  he  spoke,  the  good  steamer  darted  on  her  way,  and  in  a  few 
moments  the  boys  thought  of  nothing  else  but  their  fishing  tackle, 
and  the  girls  their  prospect  of  picking  up  shells. 

It  was  a  languid  afternoon  in  August  when  the  Marions  and  Cap- 
tain Cowpens  visited  the  island.  Edward's  thermometer,  a  prize 
from  his  teacher,  stood  at  eighty-seven  in  the  entry,  although  the 
piazza  was  shaded  by  a  spreading  fig-tree. 

All  who  had  energy  to  move  in  the  city  were  enjoying  their  sum- 
mer recreations.  Nurses  were  loitering,  and  children  playing,  in  the 
city  square  ;  throngs  crowding  to  the  battery ;  elderly  ladies  taking 
quiet  drives  beyond  the  lines ;  younger  ones  partalcing  ice-creams,  sit- 
ting tete-a-tete  in  the  arbors,  or  sipping  the  grateful  refreshments  with 
unbonneted  heads  in  their  carriages  ;  schoolboys  were  rushing  from 
five-o'clock  labors  to  their  ponies,  and  our  fair  Di  Vernons  arranging 
their  round  straw  hats,  or  waving  plumes,  for  their  equestrian  exer- 
cises. 

The  steamboat  afforded  its  customary  motley  groups,  —  reclining 
invalids,  with  their  eyes  shooting  a  sudden  brilliancy  as  the  sea- 
breeze  swept  over  their  languid  brows  ;  the  sickly  infant  seizing  the 
first  relished  morsel ;  the  happy  and  healthy,  who  come  to  add  an- 
other tinge  to  a  bright  cheek  or  preserve  one  already  glowing ;  the 
mechanic,  generously  recreating  his  industrious  family ;  the  profes- 
sional man,  escaping  from  the  stifling  court-room,  the  chamber  of 
disease,  or  the  secluded  study,  to  feel  the  Atlantic  breeze  untainted 
with  human  breathing,  and  gaze  on  the  clear  sky  and  unfettered  sea, 
—  all  were  there.  It  is  not  for  us  to  enter  on  this  innocent  catalogue 
those  whose  motives  are  gross  and  impure,  —  the  sensualist  and  the 
gambler,  who  dare  to  sojourn  where  God's  mercies  pass  by  in  purify- 


94  STORfES  AND    TALES 

ing  love,  and  whose  stagnant  souls  are  untouched  with  sensibility  by 
the  wave  or  the  breeze. 

Captain  Cowpens  glanced  from  Fort  Johnson  to  Haddrell's  Point, 
then  to  Sullivan's  Island,  and  there  his  eyes  rested  with  an  American 
gaze  of  delight  on  the  beautiful  flag  waving  from  the  citadel. 

When  he  landed  at  the  Cove,  he  said  nothing,  but  with  an  ener- 
getic stamp,  thrust  his  cane  into  the  sand  as  if  to  assure  himself 
that  he  stood  again  on  that  sacred  spot. 

The  girls  were  disappointed  in  gathering  shells  as  they  strolled  on 
the  beach.  For  several  years  they  have  been  becoming  more  and 
more  infrequent,  though  occasionally  an  eye  sharpened  by  concho- 
logical  skill,  may  detect  a  valuable  one  in  the  hollows  on  the  beach, 
at  the  back  or  eastern  part  of  the  island. 

Charlotte  picked  up  a  buccinum,  with  the  living  animal  in  it ;  but 
when  she  recollectefl  its  slight  value  and  the  torture  it  would  endure, 
she  laid  it  down  on  the  beach  again  and  with  a  generous  pleasure 
watched  its  uncouth  motions  on  the  smooth  sand,  until  a  friendly 
wave  with  dancing  steps  came  and  bore  it  into  the  sea. 

Captain  Cowpens  was  overcome  by  the  emotions  that  crowded  on 
his  mind.  He  was  trying  to  realize  that  the  spot  he  now  saw  was  the 
"  wilderness  he  remembered  covered  with  live  oak,  myrtle  and  pal- 
metto trees." 

Mrt  Marion  took  him  gently  by  the  arm,  led  him  within  the  fort 
and  introduced  him  to  the  commanding  officer.  There,  in  the  com- 
modious and  not  inelegant  dwelling,  the  old  gentleman  sat  down, 
and  as  he  wiped  his  forehead,  Sophia  perceived  that  he  passed  his 
handkerchief  across  his  eyes  to  conceal  a  gathering  tear. 

The  children  were  gratified  with  the  military  display  at  the  fort, 
and  after  satiating  their  curiosity  returned  to  the  beach.  Mrs. 
Marion  once  shook  her  head  at  John,  as  he  stood  behind  a  sentinel, 
imitating  his  stiff  attitude  and  shouldering  her  parasol  like  a  gun. 

The  boys  and  girls  shouted  in  the  fulness  of  freedom  as  they  re- 


FOR   THE    YOUNG.  95 


gained  the  beach.  Black  Billy  put  his  feet  carefully  into  the  water 
at  the  suggestion  of  the  children,  then  a  little  farther  and  a  little 
farther,  until  finding  it  quite  safe  and  feeling  the  ground  firm  beneath 
his  feet,  he  polled  up  his  pantaloons  and  dashed  in,  singing  and 
dancing  like  a  Merry  Andrew. 

How  happy  were  they  all !  True,  there  were  no  hills  rising  up  to 
meet  the  blue  sky,  no  sloping  fields  winding  gracefully  to  the  shore, 
no  rocks  stationed  like  guardians  around  our  coasts,  but  oh !  how 
much  there  was  that  was  beautiful  and  glorious  ! 

Generous  and  warm-hearted  youths,  as  you  tread  these  level  sands, 
do  you  experience  a  blank  for  memory  or  a  pause  for  hope  ?  Gentle 
and  light-hearted  girls,  are  there  not  pleasures  enough  in  the  stirring 
air  and  rushing  wave  ?  Go,  then,  in  your  innocent  joy ;  gather  rough 
shells  and  throw  them  in  the  dark  waters  ;  greet  your  conscious  dog 
as  he  comes  dripping  with  his  prize  from  the  surge ;  write  sweet 
names  on  the  sand ;  run  and  shout  with  careless  laughter  against 
the  breeze,  or  muse  on  those  thoughts  which  come  even  to  children 
from  the  bounding  sea ! 

Some  planks  that  had  been  washed  up  by  the- waves  formed  a 
pleasant  seat  for  our  little  party,  after  they  were  joined  on  the  beach 
by  Captain  Cowpens  and  their  parents. 

"  This  is  a  nice  time,"  said  John,  "  for  you  to  tell  us  some  anec- 
dotes, Captain  Cowpens.  I  do  not  mean  dates  and  such  things, 
those  are  bad  enough  in  school." 

"  If  I  could  hobble  about  the  island,"  said  the  captain,  "  I  should 
like  to  see  the  spot  where  they  tell  me  Captain  Tufts  used  to  live." 

"  Who  was  he  ? "  asked  Sophia. 

"  A  faithful  old  Massachusetts  seaman,"  replied  the  captain,  "  who, 
previous  to  the  battle  of  Fort  Moultrie,  was  sent  in  command  of  a 
gunboat  to  attend  to  the  sinking  of  some  vessels  in  Hog-Island 
channel,  to  prevent  the  British  from  using  that  pass  to  attack 
Charleston. 


96  STORIES  AND    TALES 

"  The  first  night  that  Tufts  took  his  station  for  this  service,  the 
British  sent  one  of  their  fleet,  which  anchored  within  gunshot  and 
kept  up  a  smart  fire  on  him.  No  particular  damage  was  done,  except 
on  an  old  hog,  being  the  only  soul  wounded  on  board.  This  was  the 
commencement  of  hostilities  with  the  British. 

g 

"  On  many  occasions  after,  Tufts  was  serviceable  throughout  the 
war.  We  borrowed  two  hundred  pounds  of  powder  during  the 
action  of  the  2 8th  from  his  schooner  lying  behind  the  fort." 

"  At  the  end  of  the  war,"  said  Mr.  Marion,  "  he  was  rewarded  by 
our  State's  allowing  him  the  entire  sovereignty  of  Sullivan's  Island, 
where,  except  the  small  garrison  at  the  fort,  he  was  for  some  time  the 
only  resident.  He  made  some  money  from  his  large  flock  of  goats, 
selling  them  to  captains  of  vessels.  He  was  called  Governor  Tufts, 
—  a  title  of  which  the  old  gentleman  was  very  proud.  I  have  often 
when  a  boy,  seen  Governor  Tufts  in  his  hut  looking  like  Robinson 
Crusoe.  By  carrying  with  you  some  wine  and  sugar,  you  might  be 
sure  of  procuring  from  his  excellency  a  fresh  syllabub." 

"  Father,"  said  Charlotte,  "  was  he  buried  here  ?  I  should  like  to 
find  his  grave." 

"  I  have  heard,"  said  Edward,  "  that  he  lies  among  the  Myrtles.* 
Why,  in  the  present  fashion  for  monuments,  cannot  the  youth  of 
South  Carolina  erect  one  to  this  old  man  ?  General  Moultrie  was 
elevated  in  society,  and  the  name  of  the  fort  and  island  are  his  mon- 
uments ;  but  poor  Captain  Tufts,  who  brunteS  the  first  blow  of  the 
enemy,  the  wild  winds  must  blow  over  his  solitary  remains,  and  no 
patriotic  voice  question  where  they  lie ! " 

"  Right,  boy,  right,"  said  Captain  Cowpens,  grasping  his  hands. 
"You  deserve  to  be  a  general." 

"I  think  it  was  about  here  I  stood,"  said  the -old  officer,  in  the 
course  of  their  afternoon  drive,  "  when  the  British  frigate  Acteon, 

*  A  wild,  unoccupied  piece  of  ground,  where  the  dead  are  deposited  on  the 
island. 


FOR   THE    YOUNG.  97 


which  had  run  aground  on  the  28th  during  her  attempt  to  take  the 
•right  flank  of  the  fort,  was  burnt  and  forsaken  by  her  crew." 

Captain  Cowpens  put  himself  in  an  oratorical  position,  and  nearly 
knocked  off  Mrs.  Marion's  bonnet  with  his  cane,  while  he  recited,  — 

"  Acteon  thus,  as  ancient  fables  tell,          . 
By  his  own  hounds  pursued,  expired  and  fell." 

"  While  she  was  in  flames,"  continued  he  more  quietly,  "  Captain 
Jacob  Milligan  boarded  her  a'nd  coolly  fired  off  three  of  her  guns 
at  Sir  Peter  Parker's  vessel ;  then  brought  off  the  ship's  bell  and  a 
few  other  articles,  and  had  scarcely  left  her,  when  she  blew  up. 
Colonel  Moultrie  said,  as  a  grand  pillar  of  smoke  issued  from  the 
explosion  and  expanded  itself  at  the  top,  '  that  it  formed  the  figure 
of  a  palmetto  tree.'  Anyhow,  it  was  a  grand  sight,  —  not  only  then, 
but  when  the  smoke  burst  in  a  great  blaze  which  burnt  down  to  the 
water's  edge. 

"  In  the  defence  of  Sullivan's  Island  there  was  but  one  instance 
of  cowardice,  though  there  were  but  three  hundred  and  fifty  troops, 
all  newly  raised,  and  not  one  of  them  regularly  educated  for  service 
except  Colonel  Motte.  The  case  was  that  of  a  soldier,  whose  nerves 
would  not  allow  him  to  stand  on  the  platform  during  the  severe  can- 
nonading and  bombardment  of  the  fort.  By  the  articles  of  war,  this 
poor  fellow  should  have  been  shot,  but  the  officers  were  rendered 
too  good-natured  by  their  success  to  resort  to  that  extremity,  and 
changed,  perhaps,  to  a  severer  punishment.  They  gave  him  up  to 
his  comrades  to  do  whatever  they  pleased  with  him.  The  soldiers 
dressed  him  up  in  women's  clothes,  and  after  worrying  him  nearly 
to  death,  drummed  him  out  of  the  fort." 

"  I  am  glad  of  it,"  said  John. 

"  One  would  think,"  said  Mrs.  Marion,  with  a  smile,  "  that  the 
costume  worn  by  Mrs.  Motte,  Mrs.  Heyward,  Mrs.  Edwards,  Mrs. 
Brewton,  Mrs.  Elliot,  Mrs.  Pinckney,^  Mrs.  Holmes,  Mrs.  Shubrick, 
Mrs.  Izard,  etc.,  would  not  be  very  disgraceful." 


98  STORIES  AND    TALES 

Captain  Cowpens  received  this  rebuke  with  a  respectful  bow  to 
the  lady  and  continued :  "  Poor  M'Donald,  one  of  our  sergeants, 
was  mortally  wounded.  Did  he  flinch  even  then  ?  No !  he  died 
exhorting  his  comrades  to  continue  steady  in  the  cause  of  their 
country." 

"  Your  dog  Caesar,  John,"  said  the  captain,  after  alighting  from 
the  carriage,  "reminds  me  of  one  which  amused  some  of  us  even  in 
the  fight,  by  running  after  the  cannon  balls  on  the  beach,  as  they 
rebounded  from  the  brick  work  of  the  lower  part  of  the  fort." 

Sophia  patted  Caesar,  saying,  "  He  wags  his  tail  as  if  he  under- 
stood you,  sir." 

"  The  most  trying  moment  to  our  friends  in  town  during  the  bat- 
tle," continued  the  captain,  "  was  that  in  which  our  flag  was  shot 
away.  They  gave  up  all  as  lost ;  but  Sergeant  Jasper,  in  the  hottest 
of  the  British  fire,  jumped  on  the  beach,  took  up  the  flag,  secured  it 
to  the  stump  of  the  sponge-staff,  gave  three  cheers  while  on  the  ram- 
parts, and  amidst  a  shower  of  balls  returned  to  his  duty  on  the  plat- 
form." 

"  My  children,"  said  Mrs.  Marion,  "  while  you  admire  this  act  of 
heroism,  let  me  tell  you  of  an  instance  of  Jasper's  good  sense,  a  quality 
more  desirable  in  our  peaceful  times.  Governor  Rutledge  presented 
him  a  sword,  and  offered  him  a  commission.  .The  first  he  gratefully 
accepted,  but  declined  the  last,  saying,  '  Were  I  made  an  officer,  my 
comrades  would  be  blushing  for  my  ignorance.* 

"Mamma,"  said  Charlotte,  "are  you  not  glad  that  Sullivan's 
Island  is  called  Moultrieville  ? " 

"  Yes,"  replied  her  mother ;  "  but  I  should  have  preferred  Moul- 
trie's  Isle." 

Captain  Cowpens  was  so  much  invigorated  by  the  air  and  inter- 
ested by  the  sight  of  the  Islands,  that  he  decided  to  remain  for  the 
season.  A  convenient  house  on  the  front  beach  was  selected  for  his 
accommodation  and  Mr.  Marion  promised  to  visit  him  frequently. 


SATURDAY  AFTERNOON.— P««e  09. 


FOR    THE    YOUNG.  99 


The  children  passed  every  Saturday  with  their  old  friend,  who 
entered  into  their  amusements  and  was  as  ea^er  as  themselves  for 
the  holiday.  His  fishing-boat  was  always  cleaned  with  extra  care, 
and  the  boys'  guns  placed  behind  the  door  ready  for  their  ramble 
to  the  curlew-ground.  Charlotte  invariably  protested  against  their 
firing  a  single  gun.  She  wondered  they  could  have  the  heart  to 
disturb  the  flight  of  the  birds,  as  she  watched  their  airy  processions 
against  the  sky,  now  mingling  as  if  for  consultation,  now  extending 
in  a  pencilled  line,  lengthening  and  lengthening  until  lost  in  the 
viewless  air. 

As  the  season  advanced,  the  visits  of  the  Marions  were  limited 
to  the  day-time,  as  a  change  of  night-air  is  considered  dangerous  in 
southern  climates  in  the  autumnal  months. 

One  September  morning,  Mrs.  Marion  and-  the  children  prepared 
for  their  Saturday  excursion,  their  father  being  prevented  by  business 
from  accompanying  them.  The  steamboat  had  stopped  running,  and 
with  gay  spirits  they  stepped  on  board  a  packet,  delighted  with  the 
change. 

They  found  their  old  friend  well  and  happy.  He  had  been  orna- 
menting the  fishing-boat  —  even  her  oars  were  painted  a  bright 
green,  and  she  danced  on  the  waves  as  if  expecting  her  lively  crew. 

Nor  had  the  young  people  been  unmindful  of  him.  Charlotte  and 
Sophia  affectionately  threw  around  his  neck  a  watch-guard,  the  result 
of  their  joint  industry,  on  which  was  wrought,  in  glittering  letters, 
"  28th  June,  1776."  Edward  had  superintended  the  repairing  of  his 
spectacles  and  John  came  drumming  his  fingers  on  a  tortoise-shell 
box,  containing  a  present  of  best  rappee. 

They  all  entered  the  fishing-boat.  Nature  was  as  bright  as  their 
feelings.  A  few  large  pillowy  clouds  rested  beneath  the  heavens, 
softening,  but  not  obscuring  the  autumnal  sun.  The  city,  with  its 
spires,  rose  in  the  distance.  The  light-house,  beautiful  emblem  of 
hope  and  safety,  towered  on  one  side,  and  on  the  other  the  main, 


IOO  STORIES  AND    TALES 

with  its  level  verdure,  seemed  like  a  fringe  of  green  on  the  azure 
horjzon.  Pleasure-boats  were  darting  from  the  cove ;  the  rocking 
skiff  of  the  fisherman  lay  easily  on  the  waves  and  the  majestic  mer- 
chantman passed  through  the  channel  with  its  freighted  store. 

Some  there  were,  on  that  day,  who  with  a  prescient  fear  looked 
round  and  fancied  signs  of  evil,  and  the  accustomed  ear  could  detect 
the  roar  of  a  distant  swell  upon  the  ocean.  It  blew  freshly ;  but 
who,  after  the  panting  fervors  of  the  heated  south  wind,  would  not 
welcome  that  cooling  breeze  ? 

The  wind  gradually,  but  not  alarmingly,  increased.  The  Marions 
ate  their  late  dinner  with  true  Island  gout,  and  not  one  want  was  felt 
or  expressed  but  that  one  so  full  of  love  in  the  domestic  scene, 
"  Oh !  if  father  were  only  here  !  " 

As  they  sat  at  table  passing  innocent  jokes  on  their  fishing  skill, 
a  sudden  gust  shook  the  slight  tenement,  and  a  drizzling  rain  began 
to  fall.  They  instantly  prepared  to  return  to  town,  but  every  moment 
the  wind  rose  and  the  sky  became  darker.  They  hurried,  chilled 
and  alarmed,  to  the  cove.  There  was  evident  anxiety  among  the 
mariners ;  a  gale  was  apprehended  and  they  declined  the  responsi- 
bility of  female  passengers  in  their  slight  packets. 

The  disappointed  party  returned  to  the  house  in  silence,  for  now 
the  rain  began  to  pour  in  torrents  and  the  building  rocked  like  an 
infant's  cradle. 

At  the  approach  of  night,  Sophia  was  dreadfully  alarmed,  and  as 
each  gust  came  with  its  roaring  accompaniments  of  angry  waves,  she 
screamed  with  terror.  Mrs.  Marion  tried  to  soothe  and  reason  with 
her.  It  was  in  vain.  Now  her  cheek  was  pale  as  death,  and  her 
eyes  seemed  starting  from  their  sockets  ;  and  now  the  blood  rushed 
to  her  forehead,  and  she  covered  her  eyes  with  her  hands  to  shut 
out  the  scene  before  her. 

"  Sophia,"  said  her  mother,  sternly,  "  I  will  not  suffer  this  violent 
emotion.  Conquer  your  feelings  immediately,  or  you  must  leave  me. 


FOR    THE    YOUNG.  IOI 


Your  unchristian  violence  is  worse  than  the  storm.  God  is  with  us. 
Let  us  be  prepared  for  his  will,  while  deliberating  on  the  best  means 
of  safety." 

Sophia,  with  a  strong  effort,  conquered  her  feelings  and  only  once, 
but  with  what  different  -emotions,  cried  out,  "  If  father  were  but 
here ! " 

How  rapidly  night  came  on !  They  had  hoped  the  storm  would 
lull  at  twilight ;  but  it  rose  and  rose,  and  at  length  the  waves,  like 
some  living  monster,  lifted  the  piazza,  beneath  them.  Moving  masses 
of  ruins  were  seen  floating  on  the  white  foam,  while  their  voices 
could  scarcely  be  heard  through  the  din  and  roar  of  the  elements. 
An  able  and  faithful  servant  was  summoned  to  accompany  them  to 
the  fort.  He  took  Sophia  in  his  arms,  who  lay  there  like  a  blighted 
flower.  Charlotte  and  John  held  to  the  skirts  of  his  coat ;  Captain 
Cowpens,  Mrs.  Marion,  and  Edward  with  the  remaining  servants, 
following  closely  behind.  The  darkness  was  intense  and  their  way 
lay  thfough  rising  waves. 

For  a  short  time,  a  shout,  a  word  of  encouragement,  even  a  jest 
to  attempt  to  conceal  their  alarm  and  to  assure  themselves  of  each 
other's  presence,  were  heard ;  but  this  was  soon  hushed.  At  this 
crisis  there  was  an  awful  pause  in  the  elements ;  it  seemed  that 
Nature  was  preparing  a  nervous  heave,  and  clinging  to  each  other, 
they  thought  to  die  together.  It  came,  —  the  gale  rushed  thundering 
on,  roaring  and  raging  over  bursting  waves. 

That  loving  band  were  parted  ;  only  Sophia  and  John  reached  the 
fort  in  safety. 

Bitter  was  that  night !  —  sad  the  morning.  Oh,  thou  bright  and 
glorious  sun !  how  could'st  thou  return  smilingly  on  such  a  scene  of 
desolation  ? 

Mrs.  Marion  and  Edward  had  regained  each  other,  after  that  fear- 
ful shock,  and  succeeding  in  reaching  the  piazza  of  a  building, 
which  though  but  a  wreck  withstood  the  waves.  Charlotte  was 


102  STORIES  AND    TALES 

protected  by  a  fisherman.  His  boat,  that  had  been  washed  far  up 
on  the  sands,  he  turned  and  made  good  shelter,  though  a  rough  one, 
for  the  delicate  and  bewildered  girl. 

Their  venerable  friend,  however,  was  nowhere  to-be  found.  Alas  ! 
amid  the  sad  discoveries  of  that  day,  with  tearful  eyes  they  recog- 
nized his  well-known  form.  Grasping  his  hickory  cane,  his  gray 
hairs  wet  with  surf,  and  his  eyes  fixed  in  death,  lay  the  veteran  on 
the  beach. 

As  the  soldiers  raised  him  to  bear  him  to  the  fort,  the  gold  beads 
of  the  watch-guard  sparkled  in  the  sun,  and  the  date  of  "1776" 
came  to  the  eyes  of  the  girls,  through  their  blinding  tears. 

A  mournful  and  respectful  train  was  that  which,  with  its  military 
escort,  wound  its  way  by  the  curlew-ground  to  the  Myrtles  where  the 
Island  dead  repose.  The  muffled  drum,  minglmg  with  the  sounds 
of  air  and  sea,  and  the  minute  guns,  with  sad  precision,  told  the  tread 
of  death.  Fit  was  the  burial.  Let  the  worldling  be  laid  amid  the 
city's  hum  ;  let  the  babe  and  the  maiden  rest  beneath  the  green  tree, 
and  flowers  blossom  over  their  graves  ;  but  the  hero  of  the  South, 
where  can  he  find  a  better  monument  than  those  sands,  or  a  holier 
dirge  than  that  which  comes  sweeping  over  the  ocean,  bringing 
echoes  of  his  fame  ? 


THE   YOUNG   MATHEMATICIAN. 

LAURA  SINCLAIR  was  an  intelligent  girl,  studiously  devoted  to  all 
her  lessons  except  arithmetic. 

"  O,  mother ! "  she  would  exclaim,  "  this  is  arithmetic  day.  How 
I  hate  it." 

"  My  daughter,  do  not  make  use  of  such  expressions,"  said  her 
mother.  "Nothing  is  wanting  but  attention  and  perseverance  to 
that  study  as  agreeable  as  any  other.  If  you  pass  over  a  rule 


FOR    THE    YOUNG.  IO3 


carelessly  and  say  you  understand  it  for  want  of  energy  to  learn  it, 
you  will  continue  ignorant  of  important  principles.  I  speak  with 
feeling  on  this  subject,  for  when  I  went  to  school  a  fine  arith- 
metician shared  the  same  desk  with  me,  and  whenever  I  was 
perplexed  by  a  difficult  sum,  instead  of  applying  to  my  teacher  for 
an  explanation,  I  asked  Amelia  to  do  it  for  me.  The  consequence 
is,  that  even  now,  I  am  obliged  to  refer  to  others  in  the  most  trifling 
calculations.  I  expect  much  assistance  from  your  perseverance,  dear 
Laura,"  continued  she,  affectionately  taking  her  hand. 

Laura's  eyes  looked  a  good  resolution  and  she  commenced  the 
next  day  putting  it  in  practice.  Instead  of  being  angry  because  she 
could  not  understand  her  figures,  she  tried  to  clear  her  brow  to  un- 
derstand them  better,  and  her  tutor  was  surprised  to  find  her  mind 
rapidly  opening  to  comprehend  the  most  difficult  rules.  She  now 
felt  the  pleasure  of  self-conquest,  beside  the  enjoyment  of  her 
mother's  approbation,  and  for  many  years  steadily  gave  herself  up 
to  the  several  branches  of  mathematics. 

Laura  was  the  eldest  of  three  children,  who  had  been  born  to  the 
luxuries  of  wealth.  Mr.  Sinclair  was  a  merchant  of  great  respecta- 
bility, but  in  the  height  of  his  supposed  riches,  one  of  those  failures 
took  place  which  often  occur  in  commercial  transactions,  and  his 
affairs  became  suddenly  involved.  A  nervous  temperament  and  a 
delicate  constitution  were  soon  sadly  wrought  on  by  this  misfortune. 
Mr.  Sinclair's  mind,  perplexed  and  harassed,  seemed  sinking  under 
the  weight  of  anxiety.  Laura  was  at  this  period  sixteen  years  of 
age ;  her  mind  was  clear  and  vigorous,  and  seemed  ready  like  a 
young  fawn  for  its  first  bound. 

One  cold  autumnal  evening,  the  children  with  their  wild  gambols 
were  playing  around  the  room,  while  Mr.  Sinclair  sat  leaning  his 
head  upon  his  hand  over  a  table  covered  with  papers.  Mrs.  Sinclair 
was  busily  employed  in  sewing,  and  Laura,  with  her  fingers  between 
the  pages  of  a  book,  sat  gazing  at  her  father. 


104  STORIES  AND    TALES 

"  Those  children  distract  me,"  said  Mr.  Sinclair,  in  a  sharp  ac- 
cent 

"  Hush,  Robert ;  come  here,  Margaret,"  said  Mrs.  Sinclair  gently, 
and  she  took  one  on  her  lap  and  the  other  by  her  knee,  and  whis- 
pering to  them  a  little  story  calmed  them  to  sleepiness  and  then 
put  them  to  bed. 

When  Mrs.  Sinclair  had  left  the  room,  Laura  laid  down  her  book 
and  stood  by  her  father. 

"  Don't  disturb  me,  child,"  said  he  roughly :  "  my  head  aches." 
Then  recollecting  himself,  he  took  her  hand  and  continued,  "  Do  not 
feel  hurt,  my  dear;  my  mind  is  perplexed  by  these  complicated 
accounts." 

"  Father,"  said  Laura  with  5.  smile,  "  I  think  I  can  help  you  if  you 
will  let  me  try." 

"  You  !  my  love,"  exclaimed  her  father  ;  "  why  these  papers  would 
puzzle  a  wiser  head  than  yours." 

"  I  do  not  wish  to  boast,  father,"  said  Laura  modestly,  "  but  my 
teacher  said  to-day  —  "  Laura  hesitated. 

"Well,  what  did  he  say?"  asked  Mr.  Sinclair  encouragingly. 

"  He  said,"  answered  Laura  blushing  deeply,  "  that  I  was  a  quicker 
accountant  than  most  men  of  business ;  and  I  do  believe,  father," 
continued  she,  earnestly,  "  that  if  you  were  to  explain  your  papers  to 
me,  I  could  help  you." 

Mr.  Sinclair  smiled  incredulously ;  but,  unwilling  to  check  his 
daughter's  wish  for  usefulness,  he  made  some  remarks  and  opened 
his  leger.  Insensibly  he  found  himself  entering  with  her  into  the 
labyrinth  of  numbers.  Mrs.  Sinclair  came  in  on  tip-toe  and  seated 
herself  softly  at  the  table  to  sew.  The  accounts  became  more  and 
more  complicated  ;  but  Mr.  Sinclair  seemed  to  gain  energy  under  the 
clear  quick  eye  of  his  child ;  her  unexpected  sympathy  inspired  him 
with  new  powers.  Hour  after  hour  passed  away,  and  his  spirits  rose 
at  every  chime  of  the  clock. 


FOR    THE    YOUNG.  1 05 


"  Wife,"  said  he,  suddenly,  "  if  this  girl  gives  me  aid  like  this,  I 
shall  be  in  a  new  world  to-morrow." 

"My  beloved  child,"  said  Mrs.  Sinclair,  pressing  Laura's  fresh 
cheek  to  her  own. 

Twelve  o'clock  struck  before  Laura  left  her  father,  when  she  com- 
mended herself  to  God  and  slept  profoundly.  The  next  morning, 
after  seeking  His  blessing,  she  repaired  to  Mr.  Sinclair  and  sat  by 
him  day  after  day,  until  his  books  were  faithfully  balanced. 

"  Father,"  said  she,  "  you  have  tried  me  and  find  me  worth  some- 
thing ;  let  me  keep  your  books  until  you  can  afford  a  responsible 
clerk,  and  give  me  a  little  salary  to  buy  shells  for  my  cabinet. 

Mr.  Sinclair  accepted  the  proposition.  Laura's  cabinet  increased 
in  beauty,  and  the  finished  female  handwriting  in  his  books  and 
papers  was  a  subject  of  interest  and  curiosity  to  his  mercantile 
friends. 


TINYTELLA. 

A   FAIRY   TALE. 

ALICE  SOMERS  was  an  interesting  girl,  beloved  by  watchful  and 
affectionate  parents.  She  was  perfectly  obedient  and  very  useful. 
No  one  was  more  just  than  Alice  in  distributing  from  the  store-room, 
or  more  adroit  in  the  mysteries  of  the  pantry.  The  servants  knew 
they  could  gain  nothing  by  coaxing,  though  their  young  mistress  was 
ready  to  aid  and  advise  them  of  her  own  free  will. 

Already,  with  ingenuity  beyond  her  years,  she  could  cut  clothes 
for  her  dolls,  and  her  needle  was  a  welcome  sight  among  her  young 
acquaintances.  She  had  but  one  fault ;  that,  alas  !  was  a  great  one. 
She  could  not  look  cheerful  unless  she  had  her  own  way.  It  is  true 
she  performed  her  duties  faithfully ;  but  her  bright  eyes  were  often 
clouded,  and  not  a  smile  hovered  on  her  lips. 

One  day,  when  Alice  was  gaily  talking  over  a  plate  of  nuts,  her 


106  STORIES  AND    TALES 

mother  requested  her  assistance  in  sewing.  She  of  course  complied, 
but  a  frown  gathered  on  her  brow.  She  took  her  work  in  one  corner 
of  the  room,  and  commenced  sewing  as  if  life  depended  on  every 
stitch.  Mrs.  Somers  began  to  converse  ;  Alice  was  silent ;  she  re- 
lated a  laughable  anecdote,  not  a  smile  illuminated  her  daughter's 
countenance  ;  she  asked  her  questions,  monosyllables  were  the  only 
reply.  Tired  of  this  uncivil  intercourse,  Mrs.  Somers  withdrew  to 
another  apartment.  Alice  sewed  on  with  a  face  elongated  beyond 
all  prettiness  ;  in  other  words,  she  was  sulky. 

Sitting  in  this  uncomfortable  state  of  mind,  she  felt  gradually  a 
singular  sensatiom  on  her  chin,  and  on  passing  her  hand  over  it,  it 
appeared  longer  than  usual.  She  resumed  her  work,  trying  to  look 
unhappy,  but  her  chin  attracted  her  attention  for  it  was  certainly 
lengthening.  She  dropped  her  work  and  felt  it  with  both  hands,  — 
it  pushed  itself  between  them  ;  she  tried  to  rise  —  it  was  impossible  ; 
she  attempted  to  call  her  mother,  —  her  voice  seemed  chained  ;  her 
chin  increased  every  moment,  until  at  length  she  saw  it.  What  a 
moment  of  horror,  a  horror  increased  by  the  idea  that  this  was  a 
punishment  for  ill-nature  !  In  dreadful  alarm  and  perplexity  she 
gazed  wildly  around. 

Suddenly  she  heard  a  soft  fluttering,  with  delicate  tinklings  like 
musical  wings,  and,  gliding  on  a  sunbeam,  appeared  a  minute  female 
figure,  which  floated  before  her.  Her  form  was  chaste  and  symmet- 
rical as  the  column  of  a  seashell,  her  drapery  was  woven  from  hum- 
ming-birds' plumage  and  dazzled  the  eyes  of  Alice,  until  they  rested 
on  her  tiny  face,  fair  as  a  clematis's  blossom  peeping  from  its  robe 
of  green.  At  every  motion  of  her  wings,  a  thousand  little  bells, 
musically  tuned,  rang  out  a  sweet  melody,  while  her  feet,  white  and 
noiseless  as  the  falling  petal  of  a  bay-flower,  kept  time  in  graceful 
transitions  to  their  soft  harmony. 

The  music  ceased,  and  a  voice  still  sweeter,  though  piercing  as 
the  cicada  at  summer's  noon,  addressed  poor  Alice : 


FOR    THE    YOUXG.  IO/ 


"  I  am  Tinytella,"  it  said,  "  the  friend  of  youth.  I  know  your 
misfortune  and  its  cause.  There  is  but  one  cure,  — -  the  feeling  and 
smile  of  good-humor" 

Her  bright  blue  eyes  looked  full  in  Alice's  face,  her  little  mouth 
dimpling  like  the  water  in  a  rose-vase  when  it  receives  flowers. 
Alice  smiled.  Instantly  the  frightful  deformity  disappeared,  and  she 
heard  the  bells  of  Tinytella  tinkling  on  the  distant  air. 


THE   MAY-DAY   WREATH. 

ELVIRA  ALLEN,  a  girl  of  extreme  beauty,  was  receiving  her  edu- 
cation at  a  boarding-school,  where  every  possible  attention  was  paid 
to  her  moral  and  religious  as  well  as  intellectual  habits.  But  though 
intelligent  and  industrious,  nothing  could  conquer  her  devotion  to 
her  own  personal  attractions.  The  good  sense  of  her  teachers  had 
assisted  in  part  to  correct  this  fault  of  her  character ;  but,  like  all 
efforts  that  are  not  founded  on  religious  principle,  it  sprang  up  at 
the  spell  of  temptation. 

A  May-day  celebration  was  to  take  place,  and  the  school-girls  were 
all  iri  a  glow  of  expectation.  The  day  arrived,  and  a  queen  was  to 
be  chosen.  Who  should  it  be  ? 

"  It  must  be  Ellen,"  said  one.  "  How  amiable  and  generous  she 
is !  Do  you  remember  her  assisting  that  old  negro  woman  we  met 
on  the  road  yesterday,  and  giving  her  all  her  cake,  while  we  ate 
ours  ? " 

"  Ah,  but  Jane  must  be  queen,"  said  Susan  Harrison.  "  She  is  so 
lively  that  she  will  amuse  us  every  moment  while  she  is  on  her 
throne  ;  and  then  she  looks  so  grave  all  the  time,  and  prims  up  her 
mouth  while  we"  are  aching  with  laughter.  Oh,  I  should  love  such 
a  funny  queen." 

"  I  know  she  'is  very  droll,"  said  another,  "  but  she  is  not  a  perfect 


IO8  STORIES  AND    TALES 

scholar.     Elizabeth  Glen  never  missed  a  lesson.     She  ought  to  be 
queen." 

"  Oh,  Elizabeth  is  too  grave,"  said  one.  "  I  like  Lucy  Manson. 
She  is  very  religious,  but  always  cheerful,  and  trying  to  make  others 
happy." 

The  argument  ran  quite  high  as  each  contended  for  her  favorite, 
until  Alice  Matthews  clapped  her  hands  and  exclaimed,  — 

"I  know  who  will  be  a  splendid  queen,  —  Elvira  Allen.  How 
superbly  she  will  look,  sitting  on  her  grassy  throne  with  a  wreath  on 
her  white  forehead." 

The  children,  like  other  mortals,  were  fascinated  by  appearances, 
and  Elvira  was  proclaimed  queen  by  acclamation.  She  retired  to 
her  toilet,  and  the  girls,  after  a  little  consultation,  flocked  to  their 
teacher. 

"  Have  the  goodness,"  they  exclaimed,  "  to  loan  us  the  wreath  you 
were  shewing  Mrs.  Lewis  the  other  day.  We  wish  Elvira  to  wear  it 
for  her  crown." 

The  consent  was  readily  given.  They  rushed  to  Mrs.  Warren's 
dressing  room,  but  the  flowers  were  not  there.  Looking  with  dis-. 
appointment  at  each  other,  they  returned  to  their  teacher  with 
exclamations  of  regret.  The  girls,  preceded  by  Mrs.  Warren,  has- 
tened to  Elvira's  room,  to  inform  her  of  their  intention  and  its  failure, 
and  consult  on  a  substitute  for  the  May-day  crown. 

They  entered  abruptly,  and  found  Elvira  resplendent  in  conscious 
beauty ;  her  eyes  had  the  color  of  Heaven  and  its  brightness  ;  her 
form  was  graceful  as  the  fringe  tree,  and  her  dress,  arranged  with  a 
view  to  contrast  and  effect,  was  rich  as  a  catalpa  blossom.  And 
what  was  that  mantling  glow  upon-  her  cheeks,  deep  as  the  last  look 
the  sun  casts  upon  an  evening  sky  ?  Envy  her  not,  ye  lovers  of 
personal  beauty.  .That  glow  was  guilt ;  for  twined  among  the  ringlets 
of  her  glossy  hair,  was  the  wreath  sought  for  by  her  young  compan- 
ions. 


FOR    THE    YOUNG.  .         1 09 


.  The  withering  truth  fell  at  the  same  moment  on  every  mind.  At 
length  Mrs.  Warren,  advancing  to  the  culprit  beauty,  said,  in  a  cold, 
stern  voice,  —  . 

"  This  wreath,  Miss  Allen,  was  to  have  been  yours.  Your  play- 
mates, proud  of  your  personal  attractions,  thought  that  innocent 
blossoms  would  grace  your  lovely  face.  My  heart  is  sick,  Elvira ; 
sick  and  sorrowful."  A  large  tear  slowly  rolled  over  her  cheek  as 
she  spoke,  and  the  girls  sobbed  aloud. 

"  Keep  the  wreath,  unhappy  child,"  she  continued,  as.  Elvira  tore 
it  from  her  hair,  "  it  may  be  a  warning  to  you." 

The  May-day  was  passed  in  sadness  and  tears. 


THE   FRENCH   TRAVELLER. 

LOUISA  and  Cecilia  Rutledge  once  loitered  through  the  avenue  of 
their  father'.*  plantation.  The  morning  was  such  an  one  as  April 
only  knows  at  the  South,  where  vegetation  is  almost  seen  to  grow 
under  one's  eye.  Rich  white  clouds,  kindly  gathering  over  the 
softened  but  not  hidden  sun,  allowed  them  to  gaze  on  the  varied 
hues  which  the  spring,  struggling  with  winter,  was  throwing  through 
sunshine  and  cloud,  dew,  shower,  and  breeze,  over  shrub  and  tree. 
So  picturesque  was  nature,  that  the  fair-  girls  who  gazed  on  it  were 
only  lovelier  from  the  souls  that  looked  through  their  eyes. 

Yet  beautiful  they  were,  when,  in  the  energy  of  some  sudden 
thought,  they  stopped  under  the  oaks,  which,  far  as  the  eye  could 
reach,  formed  an  arch  of  almost  architectural  fitness  above  them, 
whose  regularity  was  disturbed  only  by  the  gray  moss  floating  in 
garlands  on  the  breeze  ;  and  to  an  eye  of  love,  —  a  mother's  eye,  — 
that  watched  their  receding  forms,  as  in  the  security  of  solitude  they 
gave  way  to  frolicsome  spirits,  they  were  indeed  more  fascinating 
than  inanimate  nature. 


1 10  STORIES  AND   TALES 

The  mansion  from  which  they  were  wandering  was  a  fit  residence 
for  such  fair  inmates.  The  hand  of  taste  was  in  every  department. 
Wealth  may  heap  up  its  luxuries,  and  the  eye  be  sated  and  unallured  ; 
but  let  such  an  hand  arrange  but  a  flower,  and  it  speaks  a  language 
wealth  can  never  learn.  . 

A  branch  from  a  rose-bush  was  trained  at  each  window,  whose 
blossoms,  without  excluding  the  breeze,  looked  within  on  lips  and 
cheeks  bright  as  their  petals.  Small  vases  of  flowers  were  scattered 
around,  several  fine  old  pictures  covered  the  walls,  and  the  boast  of 
modern  art  was  not  wanting. 

A  guitar,  that  delicious  country  friend,  stood  ready  to  beguile  a 
weary  or  hasten  a  happy  hour,  while  its  hostess,  the  presiding  genius 
of  the  scene,  moved  and  looked  like  one  whose  aim  was  first  a  pure 
intercourse  with  Heaven,  and  then  a  study  of  the  happiness  of 
others. 

One  window  of  the  sitting  room  was  devoted  to  birds ;  not  to 
caged  birds,  whose  notes,  however  gay  they  may  seem,  carry  to  the 
ear  of  the  sentimentalist  those  of  Sterne's  starling,  "  I  can't  get  out." 
There  was  no  imprisonment  here  ;  a  little  ledge  projected  from  this 
window,  where  Cecilia  spread  rough  rice  every  morning  to  attract 
the  feathered  visitors.  There  the  beautiful  red-bird  came  fearlessly, 
and  others  cautiously,  and  poised  themselves  on  the  stem  of  a  shrub 
that  entered  within  the  casement,  and  hulled  the  yellow  rice-grains 
with  dexterous  art,  or  listened  with  inclined  head  and  peering  eyes 
to  the  soft  tones  of  the  guitar. 

The  sisters,  Louisa  and  Cecilia,  paused  in  their  rambling  talk 
beneath  a  tree  in  the  avenue,  attracted  by  the  notes  of  a  mocking- 
bird, which  seemed  pouring  out  its  little  soul  in  melody,  and  after 
listening  awhile  resumed  their  conversation. 

"  I  always  told  you,  Louisa,"  said  her  sister,  "  that  it  would  be  of 
no  use  to  spoil  your  sweet  eyes  with  writing  French,  and  your  pure 
English  in  speaking  it.  With  whom  can  you  converse  in  French, 


FOR    THE    YOUNG.  Ill 


after  having  twisted  your  mouth  and  ideas  with  the  idioms  for  so 
many  years  ?  The  only  French  beau  you  are  likely  to  see,  is  old 
Cato,  and  his  St.  Domingo  patois  has  not  all  the  purity  of  1'Acada- 
mie  Fran(;aise,  and  if  you  talk  to  the  trees  they  will  only  make  you 
a  Parisian  bow." 

"  I  feel  no  regret,"  answered  Louisa,  "  for  the  time  I  have  bestowed 
on  French,  for  I  have  conquered  myself.  I  used  to  shrink,  you  well 
know,  from  the  effort  of  conversation,  and  I  have  often  felt  my  cheeks 
burn  at  the  apprehension  of  a  mistake  ;  but  I  never  learned  anything 
that  has  not  been  of  use  to  me." 

"  Oh,  you  are  always  reasoning,"  said  Cecilia ;  "  you  began  when 
very,  young  to  get  the  start  of  me  in  the  race  of  mind,  though  thanks 
to  brother  Edward's  teaching  and  these  (putting  forth  her  pretty  feet), 
I  can  beat  you  in  the  avenue." 

So  saying,  she  pointed  to  a  distant  tree  as  a  goal,  and  off  they 
flew  like  the  nymphs  of  Diana.  Cecilia  had,  as  usual,  the  advan- 
tage, when,  with  glowing  cheeks  and  fluttering  hair,  her  sister  reached 
the  appointed  bound. 

"  I  have  run  so  fast,  I  am  weary,"  said  Louisa ;  "  ah,  here  is  Ed- 
ward with  the  barouche  !  " 

Edward  was  hailed,  and  she  took  her  seat  beside  him,  leaving 
Cecilia  to  enjoy  a  botanical  ramble.  Allured  by  her  fascinating 
study,  she  wandered  some  distance  on  the  main  road,  and  was  about 
returning,  when  she  heard  a  violent  crash  among  the  bushes,  and 
saw  a  pair  of  horses  approaching  at  full  gallop,  drawing  the'  shattered 
remains  of  a  travelling  carriage,  to  which  the  driver  still  clung.  It 
immediately  occurred  to  her  that  there  must  be  sufferers  by  the  acci- 
dent, perhaps  in  that  vicinity,  and  she  resumed  her  walk  in  the 
direction  from  which  the  carriage  came,  until  her  attention  was 
arrested  by  groans.  A  few  steps  brought  her  to  a  female  lying  in 
the  road,  whose  dress  indicated  her  to  be  a  foreigner.  Through  the 
agonized  expression  of  her  face,  Cecilia  immediately  discerned  the 


1 1  2  STOftfES  AND    TALES 

cast  of  refinement  which  distinguishes  the  educated  and  the  intel- 
lectual. In  her  efforts  to  rise,  her  travelling  turban  had  fallen  from 
her  head,  and  her  long  dark  hair  was  loosened  from  the  comb  that 
confined  it.  By  the  difficulty  of  her  movements,  Cecilia  soon  com- 
prehended that  one  of  her  limbs  was  fractured,  and  she  hastened  to 
assist  her ;  but  with  an  impatient  motion,  the  lady  pointed  to  the 
forest,  and  in  the  French  dialect  seemed  entreating  aid  for  another. 

All  that  Cecilia  could  comprehend  was,  that  some  one  was  missing. 
She  entered  the  woods,  while  the  lady  gazed  after  her  with  prayerful 
eyes.  Cecilia  could  find  no  one,  and  returned  to  the  sufferer.  The 
unfortunate  woman  burst  into  tears,  attempted  to  rise,  then  poured 
forth  pleadings  of  most  impassioned  and  eloquent  sorrow,  clasping 
Cecilia's  hand  in  hers,  and  vainly  attempting  to  make  her  compre- 
hend the  cause  of  her  agony. 

What  would  Cecilia  have  given  at  this  moment  for  the  knowledge 
of  the  language  she  had  despised  ?  With  tearful  eyes  she  attempted 
to  tell  the  stranger  that  she  was  going  for  assistance.  A  thousand 
emotions  distracted  her,  —  to  leave  the  unhappy  lady  seemed  the 
only  alternative,  and  she  turned  toward  the  avenue. 

The  agony  of  the  traveller  amounted  to  frenzy  at  seeing  this, 
and  uttering  every  expression  of  entreaty  of  which  the  French  lan- 
guage is  susceptible,  she  still  pointed  to  the  opposite  woods.  Ce- 
cilia almost  flew  towards  the  house,  not  daring  to  look  back,  and  at 
every  turn  of  the  avenue,  the  wild  entreaties  of  the  traveller  burst 
on  her  ear,  and  rent  her  heart.  On  reaching  the  house,  she  found 
the  barouche  at  the  door,  'and  as  well  as  her  agitation  would  permit, 
related  the  accident.  Her  brother  and  sister  sprang  into  the  car- 
riage with  her,  and  Edward  drove  at  full  speed. 

"  O,  Louisa,"  said  Cecilia,  the  tears  streaming  from  her  eyes,  "  had 
I  understoood  her  language,  I  might  have  saved  this  unfortunate 
lady  ;  now,  perhaps,  we  may  be  too  late  !  " 

When  they  reached  the  sufferer,  she  had  fainted,  and  her  face,  on 


FOR   THE    YOUNG.  113 


which  the  lines  of  distress  were  still  visible,  was  pale  as  marble. 
Edward  took  her  gently  in  his  arms,  and  lifted  her  to  the  barouche. 
She  was  roused  by  her  pain,  and  struggled  to  disengage  herself. 

"  Do  not  take  me  away,"  she  cried  in  French  ;  "  Eugene  is  in  the 
forest ;  I  will  die  with  him  !  " 

Louisa  took  her  hand,  and  in  a  low  voice  said  to  her  in  the  same 
language,  — 

" Dear  madam,  what  distresses  you?     We  are  friends." 

A  smile  of  hope  illuminated  the  face  of  the  stranger  at  these 
familiar  accents. 

"  Thank  God ! "  she  exclaimed,  pressing  Louisa's  hand  to  her 
heart,  "  you  will  find  my  child.  Our  horses  were  terrified  by  a  deer 
crossing  the  road,  —  the  carriage  was  upset,  and  Eugene  and  I  thrown 
at  some  distance  from  each  other.  I  was  so  much  injured  as  to  be 
incapable  of  raising  myself.  I  called  to  him,  he  turned,  smiling 
roguishly,  but  went  farther.  I  saw  his  little  feet  tottering  through 
the  bushes  until  he  disappeared." 

Louisa  translated  her  words  to  Cecilia,  who  darted,  quick  as 
thought,  to  the  wood,  while  the  lady  was  conveyed  home,  soothed  by 
Louisa's  gentle  and  familiar  language.  • 

Cecilia  entered  the  forest  with  a  beating  heart,  and  was  nearly  dis- 
couraged, when,  after  searching  fruitlessly  for  some  time,  she  saw 
white  garments  by  the  roadside.  She  approached,  but  almost  started 
at  the  sweet  apparition.  A  beautiful  child  slept  there ;  one  hand 
was  thrown  up  amid  his  clustering  hair,  and  the  other  was  gently 
moved  by  the  motion  of  his  beating  breast,  while  near  him  a  coiled 
snake  seemed  preparing  for  a  spring. 

Though  almost  breathless  with  terror,  Cecilia  preserved  her  self- 
command.  She  seized  a  dry  branch,  and  thrashing  the  neighboring 
bushes,  alarmed  the  reptile,  which  rapidly  glided  away. 

The  noise  awoke  the  child ;  he  raised  his  head,  and  brushing  the 
curls  from  his  dark  eyes,  called,  — 


114  STORIES  AND    TALES 

"Maman,  chlre  maman  /" 

Cecilia  softly  advanced  towards  him. 

He  moved  his  little  lip  in  grief  at  the  countenance  of  the  stranger. 
•  "  Do  not  be  afraid  of  me,"  said  Cecilia  ;  "  I  will  carry  you  to  your 
mamma." 

The  child  gazed  at  her  with  increasing  alarm,  and  hiding  his  face, 
began  to  weep  bitterly.  Cecilia,  perplexed  and  agitated,  wept,  too, 
as  the  boy  pushed  her  from  him. 

Louisa  having  committed  the  stranger  to  her  mother's  care,  re- 
turned with  Edward  in  the  barouche,  to  assist  in  the  discovery  of  the 
child.  Her  sister  called  them  as  she  heard  the  approaching  wheels, 
and  they  were  soon  at  her  side.  The  boy  still  hiding  his  face 
against  a  tree,  refused  to  move.  Louisa  whispered  to  him  ;  the 
child  sprang  to  her  arms  with  a  laugh  of  joy. 

During  the  slow  recovery  of  the  invalid,  while  Cecilia  sat  in  silence 
ready  to  perform  the  kind  offices  which  require  no  words,  the  stran- 
ger rewarded  her  with  a  languid  smile ;  but  when  Louisa,  though 
even  sometimes  inaccurately,  spoke  to  her  in  her  native  tongue,  her 
eyes  were  lit  up  with  joy  and  sympathy. 

"What  book  is  that  you  are  studying  so  intently?"  said  Louisa  one 
day  to  her  sister. 

"  A  new  phrase  book,"  replied  Cecilia,  blushing ;  "  I  am  deter- 
mined to  get  one  of  those  real  smiles  that  Madame  bestows  on  you  " ; 
and  turning  to  Eugene,  she  said,  "  Baisez  mot,  man  petit." 

The  French  boy  did  not  wait  a  second  bidding ;  he  caught  her 
round  the  neck  and  imprinted  a  hearty  kiss  on  the  lips  of  the  smil- 
ing American. 


FOR    THE    YOUNG.  1 15 


THE    MISSIONARIES. 

A   TALE   OF    SANIPIE. 

ONE  summer  twilight,  two  girls  yet  in  the  opening  bloom  of  life, 
were  resting  on  a  rural  seat  by  the  borders  of  a  Southern  river. 
The  fingers  of  one  rested  between  the  closed  leaves  of  a  book,  while 
the  glow  of  a  communicated  thought  from  its  pages  dwelt  on  her 
abstracted  countenance,  and  the  other  was  pointing  out  the  softening 
glories  of  the  western  sky.  An  artist  might  have  lingered  near  that 
lovely  spot.  Above  and  around  were  spread  the  branches  of  an 
oak  from  which  the  gray  moss  .hung  quietly  in  the  hush  of  nature, 
sweeping  the  greensward  below.  A  garden  rich  in  flowers  lay  near 
in  front  .of  the  white  walls  of  the  family  mansion;  an.  amphitheatre 
of  woods  enclosed  the  planted  fields,  forming  a  green  curve  in  the 
distance,  stopping  where  the  river,  beautifully  clear,  came  in  with  its 
graceful  flow  at  the  foot  of  the  oak  in  which  one  huge  branch  could 
admire  it  sown  glossy  leaves  and  gray  drapery.  A  warmly-tinted 
sky  broke  in  bright  flickerings  through  the  leaves  and  tinged  the 
stream,  while  the  birds  flitted  to  their  nests  with  farewell  strains. 
The  only  other  sounds  that  interrupted  the  stillness,  were  the  flash 
of  an  oar  and  the  distant  horn  and  chorus  of  the  negroes. 

"  Look  up,  Isabel,"  said  the  speaking  girl,  "  from  that  book  to  this 
glorious  sunset.  It  is  worth  a  thousand  volumes  !  " 

Isabel  shook  her  head  gravely,  her  downcast  eyes  bent  upon  the 
turf  at  her  feet.  At  length  she  sighed  and  said,  — 

"  Cousin  Ellen,  a  solemn  duty  is  pending  over  me  which  makes  me 
blind  and  deaf,  even  to  these  great  natural  manifestations  of  Deity. 
I  begin  to  feel  a  thrilling  consciousness  that  I  have  no  right  to  linger 
over  these  scenes  of  my  earthly  joys.  This  book  describes  the 
wants  of  the  heathen,  the  poor  heathen,  who,  when  they  look  at 


Il6  STORIES  AND    TALES 

nature,  acknowledge  no  creating  hand,  and  if  they  possess  a  friend, 
clear  to  me  as  you  are,  Ellen,  know  nothing  of  that  world  where  such 
friendship  shall  be  made  brighter  and  unbroken  through  eternal 
years." 

A  soft. and  solemn  depth  was  in  the  tones  of  the  speaker  and  her 
full,  dark  lids  were  wet  with  tears. 

"  And  can  you  be  willing  to  think  for  a  moment  of  leaving  your 
home  duties,  your  father  and  mother  and  little  Rosalie,  for  an  uncer- 
tain sphere  among  the  heathen  ? "  said  Ellen,  earnestly. 

"  There  is  nothing  uncertain  in  the  missionary's  path,"  exclaimed 
the  enthusiast,  as  she  rose  and  clasped  her  hands  with  an  onward 
gesture.  "  Every  step  he  takes  is  heavenward ;  every  sorrow  he 
endures  adds  a  gem  to  his  immortal  crown.  Yes,  dear  garden, 
where  my  childhood's  foot  has  trod,  skies  that  have  so  long  looked 
down  upon  me,  birds  that  have  sung  to  me  from  year  to  year,  father, 
mother,  sister,  farewell !  I  must  go." 

"  With  which  of  these  handsome  students  are  you  about  to  par- 
take the  crown  of  martyrdom  ? "  said  Ellen,  archly  trying  to  suppress 
a  smile  upon  her  lips. 

"With  Henry  Clayborne,  as  his  wedded  wife,"  said  Isabel  with 
dignity,  scarce  a  blush  tinging  the  delicate  hue  of  her  cheek. 

Ellen  turned  a  rosy  hue ;  a  rush  as  of  sudden  winds  sounded 
through  her  brain  ;  but  recovering  instantly,  she  stooped  to  caress  a 
tame  fawn  that  was  browsing  at  her  side,  for  the  name  was  not  the 
one  she  feared  to  hear. 

We  will  not  penetrate  the  secrets  of  that  young  heart  ;  like  many 
others,  it  must  feed  itself  in  silent  happiness  and  bide  its  time  of  joy. 

Isabel,  absorbed  in  the  contemplation  of  her  own  lofty  purposes, 
did  not  observe  the  agitation  of  her  cousin.  These  almost  mascu- 
line purposes  belonged  to  a  young  and  fragile  being  ;  but  it  is  won- 
derful how  feminine  enthusiasm  will  bear  up  the  frail  and  delicate 
where  seemingly  stronger  spirits  fail.  One  who  looked  into  her  soft 


FOR    THE    YOUNG.  I  I/ 


eyes,  and  noted  Isabel's  slight  figure,  would  never  dream  that  she 
could  leave  the  feathered  nest  of  her  childhood  for  the  dangers  of 
the  ocean  and  the  hardships  of  an  Indian  exile.  But  such  have 
not  studied  the  promptings  of  human  will,  coupled  with  strong 
religious  enthusiasm. 

That  evening  Henry  Clayborne  came  to  hear  his  final  sentence. 
He  felt  what  it  would  be,  for  Isabel's  touching  welcome  told  more 
than  words.  It  was  not  the  downcast  blush  of  common  acceptance, 
but  the  frank  determined  glow  of  a  holy  resolution. 

"  This  kindness  augurs  well  for  me,"  he  said,  fondly,  as  he  held 
her  confiding  hand ;  "  but  I  have  come  resolved  not  to  take  advantage 
of  it.  Better,  dearest,  is  it  for  me  to  brave  this  wild  path  alone.  I 
leave  neither  father,  mother,  nor  sister ;  besides,  I  am  a  man  who 
can  tread  through  dangers  where  your  softer  spirit  will  droop.  I 
could  not  bear  to  see  this  white  brow  sink  beneath  those  sultry  skies, 
nor  those  tender  feet  fail  in  the  wilderness  ;  but  be  my  bride,  and 
with  that  claim  upon  you,  I  shall  depart  braced  for  danger.  .  But  I 
must  go  alone." 

"You  have  been  tempted,  Henry,"  said  the  brave  girl.  "God 
has  withdrawn  his  countenance  from  you,  or  you  would  not  talk  so. 
My  parents  will  feel  a  pride  in  their  missionary  girl  as  friend  after 
friend  gathers  round  in  religious  sympathy.  Besides,  Henry,  who 
should  think  of  such  ties  when  God  calls  ?  We  must  tread  the 
waves  at  the  voice  of  Jesus.  His  voice  is  near ;  I  hear  it  now. 
Help,  Lord,  or  we  perish,"  she  exclaimed,  as  her  face  glowed  like  an 
angel's  as  she  sank  on  her  knees  with  clasped  hands  and  prayerful 
eyes.  "  Shall  we  sink  while  he  is  by  ?  Look  on  thy  servants  in  this 
hour  of  need  ;  the  storm  of  temptation  is  near  ;  the  billows  rage  ; 
put  forth  thy  hand  to  save." 

Henry  knelt  beside  her  ;  he  caught  the  enthusiasm  of  his  promised 
bride ;  his  voice  was  not  heard,  but  his  lips  moved.  In  those  mo- 
ments of  stillness  a  sublime  self-dedication  had  been  made.  They 


I\8  STOKIES  AND    TALES 


bc*h  rose.  " We  go  together"  he  whispered,  and  folded  her  to  his 
heart. 

There  were  busy  preparations  for  the  bridal  and  voyage.  Re- 
ligion, love,  and  friendship  were  active,  as  they  heard  the  story  of 
the  self-immolation  of  the  young  and  beautiful  girl.  When  friends 
came  to  give  their  parting  kiss,  Rosalie's  pretty  eyes  filled  with  tears, 
but  the  gifts  and  novelty  of  preparation  soon  dried  them  up  again. 
A  doubting  cast  of  care  was  on  the  father's  brow,  but  he  bade  God- 
speed, and  blessed  his  child.  Ellen  went  through  her  duties,  and  if 
she  were  sadder  and  paler  than  her  wont,  was  it  not  for  Isabel,  her 
dear  friend  and  cousin,  and  would  not  her  life  soon  beam  with  love 
also  ?  And  how  fared  it  with  the  mother  of  the  young  exile  ?  She 
busied  herself,  for  she  dared  not  be  idle.  She  checked  the  struggling 
sigh  and  wiped  the  gathering  tears,  and  her  short  prayer  for  patience 
and  submission  went  up  when  none  could  hear. 

Time  sped ;  how  soon  he  fiies  with  moments  counted  by  parting 
friends !  and  the  bridal  was  to  take  place  on  the  morrow,  and  the 
departure  on  the  succeeding  day.  One  by  one  the  family  retired, 
the  mother  last,  for  a  troubled  and  restless  emotion  made  her  wake- 
ful. As  she  sat  alone  the  ticking  of  the  clock  seemed  almost  shrill 
to  her  excited  ear.  She  recalled  the  childish  joy  of  Isabel  when 
she  used  to  clap  her  hands  at  the  revolving  moon  of  the  old  time- 
piece. There  was  the  little  chair  in  which  Isabel  had  sought  in  vain 
to  rest  her  dimpled  feet  upon  the  floor.  That  room  could  almost 
tell  her  history.  There  was  the  framed  and  faded  sampler,  the  more 
elaborate  decorations  of  the  pencil,  the  beloved  piano-forte  which 
had  soothed  and  brightened  her  yarious  hours.  Was  it  possible  that 
those  dear  hands  might  never  touch  its  chords  again  ?  There  was 
her  work-box,  the  quiet,  precious  instrument  over  which  a  woman's 
heart  pours  out  its  home  emotions  in  most  unconscious  freedom. 
She  opened  it  with  a  trembling  hand.  How  tasteful !  how  judicious ! 
Character  was  seen  in  all  its  combinations.  It  spoke  of  economy, 


FOR    THE    YOUNG.  1 19 


just  arrangement  and  fancy,  while  little  touches  of  the  affections 
peeped  forth  from  its  many  compartments.  As  she  gazed  on  these 
things,  her  tears  gushed  forth,  and  she  did  not  hear  Isabel's  footsteps, 
until  her  arms  were  thrown  around  her. 

"  I  would  that  you  had  not  witnessed  these  emotions,"  said  her 
mother,  almost  coldly.  "  You  have  chosen  your  path  and  leave  me 
sadly  to  go  down  to  mine.  Strangers  are  to  occupy  the  heart  that  I 
have  trained  for  eighteen  years.  But  go.  Console  yourself  as  you 
will ;  midnight  and  tears  are  my  portion." 

Isabel  clung  to  her  mother  beseechingly,  the  lofty  look  of  heroism 
almost  driven  from  her  brow.  "  Mother,  your  parents  doted  on  you," 
she  said,  falteringly,  "  as  you  on  me,  ^tnd  yet  you  left  their  arms  for 
an  earthly  love.  How  much  greater  is  the  duty  that  calls  me  from 
you,  to  give  salvation  to  the  lost  and  dying !  O,  mother,"  she  con- 
tinued, grasping  her  hand  with  kindling  eye,  "  should  I  die  in  this 
enterprise,  go  boldly  to  the  court  of  Heaven  and  ask  for  your  child ! 
How  proud  will  be  your  joy  to  see  the  weak  and  humble  girl  you 
nurtured  in  your  bosom  surrounded  by  the  white-robed  souls  she 
has  rescued  through  Christ's  mercy,  perchance  leading  their  hymns 
in  Heaven  as  she  has  on  earth !  O,  mother !  will  they  not  greet 
you  with  a  new  song  of  joy  for  yielding  up  your  child?  'Welcome 
thou,  whose  child  has  opened  unto  us  the  Book  of  Life  ! ' ' 

Her  mother  was  awed  and  silenced.-  She  took  the  dear  enthusiast 
to  her  arms,  stroked  the  falling  hair  from  her  glistening  eyes,  and 
pressing  that  soft  cheek  to  her  bosom,  said, — 

"  I  will  resign  thee  ;  God's  will  be  done." 

The  bridal  was  over,  the  few  guests  had  gone,  and  silence  settled 
on  that  little  group,  so  soon  to  be  severed  by  rolling  seas.  "  Isabel 
touched  a  few  chords  on  the  piano-forte.  At  first  her  hand  trembled, 
and  Rosalie,  who  stood  by  looking  wistfully,  wiped  her  sister's  cheek 
with  her  little  handkerchief. 

Gradually  her  fingers  became  firm  as  her  thoughts  possessed  them- 


I2O  STORIES  AND    TALES 

selves  of  her  great  mission,  and  her  voice  was  full  and  deep  as  in 
her  freest  moments,  while  she  sang  to  the  tune  of  the  "  Bride's  Fare- 
well "  the  touching  verses  of  Mrs.  Dana. 

THE   MISSIONARY'S   FAREWELL. 

FAREWELL,  mother,  Jesus  calls  me 

Far  away  from  home  and  thee ; 
Earthly  love  no  more  enthralls,  me, 

When  a  bleeding  cross  I  see. 
Farewell,  mother,  do  not  pain  me 

By  thine  agonizing  woe  ; 
Those  fond  arms  cannot  detain  me, 

Dearest  mother,  I  must  go. 

Farewell,  father,  —  Oh,  how  tender 

Are  the  chords  that  bind  me  here  ! 
Jesus  !  help  me  to  surrender 

All  I  love,  without  a  tear. 
No,  —  my  Saviour  !  wert  thou  tearless. 

Leaning  o'er  the  buried  dead  ? 
At  this  hour,  so  sad  and  cheerless, 

Shall  not  burning  tears  be  shed  ? 

Farewell,  sister,  do  not  press  me 

To  thy  young  and  throbbing  heart 
Oh,  no  longer  now  distress  me,  . 

Sister  —  sister  —  we  must  part ! 
Farewell,  pale  and  silent  brother, 

How  I  grieve  to  pain  thee  so  ! 
Father  —  mother  —  sister  —  brother  — 

jftsus  calls —  Oh,  let  me  go  ! 

Every  heart  was  throbbing,  every  eye  was  gushing  with  tears,  ex- 
cept that  of  the  rapt  singer,  who  sat  with  upward  look,  like  a  bird 
preparing  to  wing  its  homeward  way  to  warmer  skies.  Rosalie  had 
been  cradled  in  her  sister's  arms  for  three  years ;  that  night  was  her 


FOR    THE    YOUNG.  121 


first  banishment,  and  the  child  had  sobbed  herself  to  sleep  in  the 
little  crib  assigned  to  her  by  her  mother's  bedside. 

Isabel  sought  the  slumberer  alone,  for  the  first  time  almost  over- 
powered by  regrets  stronger  than  religious  duties.  The  little  sleep- 
er's face  had  resumed  its  tranquillity,  but  there  was  a  deeper  flush 
than  usual  on  her  rounded  cheek  ;  and  as  she  stood  by  the  bedside, 
Isabel  put  softly  aside  the  tangled  hair  on  the  pillow,  which  was  wet 
with  her  tears.  Long  and  earnest  and  loving  was  the  gaze  of  the 
missionary's  bride,  and  as  she  looked,  the  chest  of  the  child  stirred 
with  a  trembling  sob,  like  the  heaving  of  a  billow  when  the  gale  has 
died  away.  Isabel  severed  one  of  those  moist  curls  from  its  com- 
panions, and  placed  it  in  her  bosom,  pressing  her  hand  a  moment  on 
her  own  throbbing  breast.  The  struggle  passed  away,  and  kneeling 
by  the  bedside,  she  whispered  a  prayer :  "  God  and  Father  of  inno- 
cence," she  said,  "  as  I  love  the  soul  of  this  little  child,  so  may  I 
love  the  souls  of  the  young,  benighted  ones  who  are  in  the  darkness 
of  heathenism.  Let  me  crush  every  love  which  would  call  me  from 
Thee  and  my  high  destiny." 

She  rose  from  her  knees,  tearless  in  the  might  of  holy  resolution, 
and  bending  over  the  little  girl,  kissed  her  hands  and  forehead  ;  then 
looking  upward,  she  said  again,  "  God  bless  thee,  young  angel,  and 
teach  me  to  save  kindred  souls." 

There  was  one  listener  who  drew  her  from  that  room.  Could  they 
have  known  the  prayer  that  was  to  be  wrung  from  his  heart  in  a  few 
short  months,  would  they  have  gone  forth  as  strong  and  earnest- 
hearted  as  they  were  at  that  moment  ? 

The  young  bride  at  sea !  Who  has  not  seen  her  gush  of  parting 
sorrow  dried  slowly  away,  as  one  for  whom  she  has  left  all  stands 
near  to  comfort  her  ?  And  she  is  comforted.  The  long,  long  day, 
listless  to  others,  is  full  of  thought  to  her  ;  for  he  watches  her  steps, 
her  sighs,  her  smiles,  —  his  future  and  hers  are  one.  She  loves  to 
see  the  sunlit  waves  and  the  evening  stars  with  him,  and  even  the 


122  STOK/ES  AND    TALES 

storm  loses  its  terrors.  Young  bride,  be  it  ever  thus  on  the  ocean 
of  life  !  May  thy  trim  ship*  tread  well  the  waters,  the  sky  of  heaven  be 
bright  above  thee,  the  winds  waft  thee  kindly  on,  and  he  who  holds 
the  helm  be  true  ! 

It  was  sweet  to  hear  the  hymns  that  rose  from  time  to  time  from 
the  young  missionaries  in  the  hofy  joy  of  their  souls.  Isabel's  voice 
kindled  in  rapt  delight  until  the  roughest  sailor  paused  and  caught 
the  religious  glow.  There  was  little  to  try  the  fortitude  of  the  pas- 
sengers in  the  voyage,  which  was  marked  by  the  common  incidents 
of  sea-life,  until  they  entered  the  Kay  of  Bengal.  The  day  previous 
had  been  oppressive,  and  there  was  a  stagnation  in  the  air,  as  if  its 
circulation  had  suddenly  been  suspended  ;  and  on  the  following  morn- 
ing, the  experienced  commander  reefed  his  sails,  though  the  wind,  as 
yet,  threatened  in  light  gusts.  A  yellow  haze  loomed  athwart  the 
sun,  which  was  strangely  reflected  in  the  gurgling  waters ;  this  as- 
pect continued  through  the  morning.  Henry  and  Isabel  observed  a 
change  in  the  countenances  of  the  seamen,  which  at  first  they  could 
not  understand ;  but,  as  they  continued  to  gaze,  there  was  a  mystery 
in  the  stillness,  as  if  the  foot  of  the  Eternal  might  be  treading  on 
his  wonderful  watery  creation.  After  a  few  hours,  a  steady  gale  com- 
menced, gigantic  clouds  rolled  like  troubled  spirits  through  the  air, 
and  Isabel  shrank  nearer  to  her  husband.  At  twilight,  the  hurricane 
began,  and  the  chafed  ship,  like  a  living  thing,  now  sank  as  in 
despair,  now  leaped  over  the  swelling  billows.  The  missionaries 
summoned  the  strength  of  their  souls,  and  awaited  God's  will  in 
silence.  It  was  a  night  of  fearful  anxiety.  No  one  slept  but  Isabel, 
who,  leaning  on  her  husband's  shoulder,  dreamed  sweetly  of  her 
oaken  seat  beside  the  river,  and  was  only  startled  when  the  cap- 
tain's voice  was  heard  through  the  deep  tones  of  the  trumpet,  and 
overtopped  the  gale.  Suddenly  a  heavy  sea  struck  the  ship  astern, 
and  the  waters  rushed  into  the  cabin.  The  shock  was  tremendous. 
Henry  bore  his  dripping  charge  in  his  arm  to  the  captain's  cabin. 


FOR    THE    YOUNG.  12$ 


She  was  quite  insensible,  her  lips  were  blue,  and  her  frame  was 
rigid.  Henry  chafed  her  cold  hands,  wrung  the  damp  from  her 
hair,  and  gave  her  restoratives.  She  opened  her  eyes  at  length, 
spoke  his  name,  and  laid  her  head  on  his  shoulder,  like  a  glad 
child. 

"We  will  die  together,"  whispered  she;  "and  though  we  are  not 
God's  favored  instruments,  He  will  carry  on  the  good  work  by  other 
hands." 

And  now  the  uproar  on  deck  became  terrific  ;  huge  billows  burst 
over  the  bows  of  the  ship,  writhing  and  spouting,  and  glittering  with 
phosphoric  light,  while  the  lightning  darted  and  flashed  over  the 
ocean.  The  captain  lost  his  assumed  calmness,  and  his  wild  oaths 
sounded  across  the  storm  like  the  shouts  of  a  demon.  Isabel  shud- 
dered at  the  impiety  which  could  thus  brave  heaven,  when  seemingly 
so  near  its  final  judgment. 

At  this  period  the  vessel  was  inert  and  powerless,  drifting  like  a 
disabled  swan  on  the  waters.  Isabel  sat  with  Henry,  each  praying 
silently.  At  length  the  welcome  sound  of  relief  was  heard,  the  ves- 
sel righted,  and  the  waves  rushed  like  released  prisoners  from  the 
deck.  The  morning  rose  in  beauty,  and  soon  the  lines  of  green,  so 
dear  to  the  landsman's  heart,  opened  on  the  view. 

"  Is  your  heart  still  strong,  beloved  ? "  said  Henry.  "  Are  there 
no  yearnings  for  friends  and  home  ?  " 

Isabel  smiled,  and  pressed  Henry's  hand. 

"  The  Lord  has  not  preserved  me  from  a  watery  grave  that  I  should 
bear  a  faltering  heart.  I  feel  strong  in  His  arm  ;  let  Him  lead  me 
where  He  will,  so  I  can  aid  His  cause." 

Isabel's  emotions,  as  she  neared  the  shores  of  Hindostan,  were 
almost  dream-like,  and  she  asked  herself,  as  objects  of  strange  novelty 
met  her  eye,  — 

"  What  am  I  who  have  ventured  thus  ?  An  atom  among  the  ocean. 
But  the  Lord  careth  even  for  the  sparrow." 


124  STORIES  AND    TALES 

The  new  perfume  from  the  flowers  was  among  the  first  things  that 
spoke  to  her  of  her  distant"  home. 

"  I  have  to  remember,"  she  said,  "  that  the  same  God  scented  these 
rich  blossoms  who  gave  the  odor  to  my  garden  rose  ;  let  me  not  for- 
get that  he,  too,  is  the  God  of  the  heathen  as  well  as  Christian 
souls." 

They  were  touched  by  the  picturesque  beauty  of  the  scene  as  they 
sailed  up  one  of  the  mouths  of  the  Ganges.  Hindoo  cottages,  like 
haystacks,  without  chimneys  or  windows,  clustered  beneath  luxuri- 
ant trees,  contrasted  in  their  rudeness  with  the  more  elaborate 
pagodas.  Wide  fields  of  rice,  and  grass  of  exquisite  verdure,  were 
spread  around,  while  herds  of  cattle  fed  on  the  banks  of  the  river. 
But  a  glance  at  the  inhabitants  concentrated  the  thoughts  of  the 
missionaries,  and  fixed  them  on  the  worth  of  human  souls.  They 
were  willing,  in  the  devotion  of  their  feelings,  to  enter  one  of  those 
hovels  and  begin  at  once  the  work  of  salvation.  But  new  objects 
arrested  their  attention  as  they  journeyed  to  the  seat  of  the  mission. 
A  bridegroom,  about  ten  years  of  age,  was  carried  in  a  palanquin 
crowned  with  flowers,  followed  by  a  procession  with  musical  instru- 
ments. Tears  started  to  Isabel's  eyes,  as  they  followed  this  idle 
pageant,  at  the  thought  of  the  rational  and  simple  rites  of  her  own 
betrothal. 

The  next  object  that  called  prayer  deep  from  the  souls  of  the 
strangers,  was  the  worship  of  Juggernaut,  the  wooden  idol,  before 
which  multitudes  assembled  with  overwhelming  shouts.  Henry  and 
Isabel  cast  down  their  eyes  at  the  sacrilege,  and  remembered  the 
simple  church  at  home,  where  spiritual  prayers  were  the  choicest 
gift  to  heaven.  Their  curiosity  was  attracted  by  a  rude  kind  of 
basket  suspended  from  a  tree.  On  looking  within,  they  discovered 
the  partially-devoured  remains  of  a  little  child.  Isabel  shuddered 
and  thought  of  her  own  childhood  and  little  Rosalie  pillcrwed  upon 
her  mother's  bosom. 


FOR    THE    YOUNG. 


But  the  most  horrible  scene  to  Isabel  in  this  memorable  journey 
was  the  sacrifice  of  a  widow.  In  vain  the* missionaries  tried  to  move 
away  from  "that  harrowing  scene  ;  there  was  a  spell,  even  a  fascina- 
tion in  its  terrors,  that  chained  them  to  the  spot,  and  Isabel,  sick  at 
heart,  looked  on.  A  grave  was  dug  near  the  river,  and  after  a  few 
unintelligible  rites,  the  widow  took  a  formal  leave  of  her  friends  and 
descended  into  the  chamber  of  death.  It  may  be  that  she  was  stu- 
pefied with  opium,  for  there  was  a  mechanical  insensibility  about  her 
that  seemed  scarcely  human.  As  soon  as  she  reached  the  bottom 
of  the  pit,  by  means  of  a  rude  ladder,  she  was  left  %lone  with  the 
body  of  her  husband,  in  a  revolting  state  of  decay,  which  she 
embraced  and  clasped  to  her  bosom,  and  then  gave  the  signal  for 
the  last  act  of  this  shocking  scene  to  commence.  The  earth  was 
deliberately  thrown  upon  her,  while  two  persons  descended  into  the 
grave  and  trampled  it  tightly  round  the  self-devoted  sacrifant.  Dur- 
ing this  tardy  and  frightful  process,  the  doomed  woman  sat  an  uncon- 
cerned spectator,  caressing  the  corpse,  and  she  had  an  expression 
of  almost  sublime  triumph  as  the  earth  embraced  her  body.  The 
hands  of  her  own  children  aided  in  this  terrible  rite  ;  and  when  all 
but  her  head  was  covered,  the  nearest  relatives  danced  over  the 
inhumed  body,  and  covered  the  whole  from  sight. 

Before  the  termination  of  this  scene,  Isabel,  who  had  lingered  with- 
infatuated  interest,  fainted.  On  recovering,  she  said  to  Henry,  — 

"  Assist  me,  my  husband,  to  hate  the  meaning  of  this  act  more 
than  I  do.  Again  and  again  I  thought  I  co'uld  bear  to  die  thus  with 
you,  rather  than  live  without  you.  Will  God  forgive  my  idolatry  ? " 

At  length  the  young  missionaries  reached  their  home,  —  home? 
And  was  this  the  abode  of  the  delicate  Isabel  ?  The  late  inmates 
had  died  of  the  fever,  and  no  kind  hand  had  arranged  the  few  relics 
that  remained.  The  dwelling  consisted  of  two  rooms  made  of  bam- 
boo and  tnatch,  and  an  air  of  desolation  pervaded  everywhere.  Day 
after  day  Isabel  labored  with  those  hands  so  unused  to  toil,  until  an 


126  STORIES  AND    TALES 

air  of  comfort  wrought  its  charm  around  her.  Then  her  love  for  the 
beautiful  broke  forth.  She  trained  the  native  shrubbery  around  the 
dwelling,  and  planted  a  spot  on  which  her  husband's  eye  might  grate- 
fully repose  as  he  sat  at  his  daily  studies  ;  but  alas  !  hunger  and  heat 
and  debility  often  took  from  her  the  power  of  more  than  necessary 
effort.  Nothing  is  more  wearing  to  an  ardent  person,  who  sacrifices 
everything  for  spiritual  good,  than  to  find  himself  trammelled  down 
to  the  physical  wants  of  life.  Isabel  felt  this  pressure  a  trial  almost 
more  than  she  could  bear,  and  it  was  a  day  of. prayerful  thanksgiving 
for  her  when  she  -was  permitted  by  another's  services  to  assist  her 
husband  in  teaching.  His  labors  were  lightened  by  her  active  spirit, 
and  it  was  a  blessing  to  her  soul  to  toil  with  him  and  listen  to  his 
earnest  voice  as  he  preached  of  salvation.  How  beautiful  he  was  to 
her,  as  he  stood  with  earnest  eyes  and  gestures,  breaking  the  bread 
of  life  to  the  benighted  souls  around  them !  and  then,  when  evening 
came,  they  inhaled  the  perfume  of  their  garden  while  sitting  at  their 
door  and  talking  of  their  old  home.  Were  they  happy  ?  Troubled 
thoughts  and  forebodings  sometimes  shot  through  their  minds  like 
an  ice-bolt,  —  for  death  might  come  and  sunder  them  ;  conversions 
were  slow  ;  brutish  ignorance  baffled  their  dearest  hopes ;  the  seed 
which  they  planted  seemed  thrown  on  stony  hearts,  but  their  faith 
was  firm.  Strong  prayer  went  up  daily,  hourly,  from  the  temple  of 
their  hearts,  though  all  others  were  closed  against  them  ;  faith  looked 
with  her  bright,  keen  glance  beyond  the  present  hour,  and  showed 
them  precious  souls  redeemed  by  their  toils. 

In  the  midst  of  these  emotions,  Henry  was  seized  with  the  fever 
of  the  climate.  Poor  Isabel  left  all  for  him.  Night  and  day  she 
bent  over  his  pillow  and  forgot  it  was  wrong  to  idolize  an  earthly 
form.  All  memory  and  hope  were  lost  in  the  present  thought  of  his 
possible  death,  —  but. he  recovered.  How  sweet  it  was  to  present 
him  the  first  fruits  of  their  little  garden,  and  to  bring  him,  one  by 
one,  his  manuscripts  and  books ;  to  see  the  faint  glow  of  health  kindle 


FOR    THE    YOUNG.      .  12J 


on  his  cheek,  to  aid  his  faltering  steps,  to  feel  the  cool  hand  which 
had  so  lately  burned  and  throbbed  beneath  her  touch  !  Isabel  sat 
at  his  feet,  and  looked  and  looked  until  tears  started  to  her  eyes  for 
love  and  joy. 

One  evening  Henry  was  summoned  to  his  wife's  apartment.  She 
had  given  birth  to  a  boy.  The  little  one  lived  but  to  receive  a 
father's  first  and  last  blessing,  before  his  perfect  features  settled  to 
repose.  And  Isabel  seemed  departing,  too ;  her  loving  eye  grew 
dim,  the  sweet  voice  lowered,  and  she  called  for  her  little  lifeless 
baby,  and  took  it  into  her  arms  and  said,  — 

"  Henry,  if  I  die,  take  care  of  the  lambs  for  the  sake  of  my  Rosa- 
lie and  this  little  child.  It  is  my  last  request." 

And  kissing  her  baby,  she  gave  him  back  to  his  father's  arms,  and 
gently  closed  her  eyes.  But  God  had  not  willed  that  these  two 
noble  souls  should  yet  be  parted,  for  their  double  work  was  not  fin- 
ished. After  a  night  of  quiet  wakefulness,  Isabel  fell  into  a  deep 
sleep ;  and  when  she  awoke,  Henry  felt  that  she  was  to  return  to 
duty  with  him  ;  and  in  his  turn,  he  had  the  sweet  delight  of  minister- 
ing to  her  wants,  and  supplying  her  needs. 

One  evening,  seated  at  the  same  door  that  was  now  so  sacred  to 
them,  they  were  talking  of  their  future,  and  saying  how  great  their 
thankfulness  was  for  renewed  health  and  strength  ;  but  that  if  some 
way  could  only  be  made  plain  to  them,  practically,  for  carrying 
out  their  plans  for  the  children  and  youth  of  India,  it  would  raise 
them  up  at  once  to  their  highest  dreams.  Some  letters  were  handed 
them,  and  to  Isabel's  delight,  she  read  the  following :  — 

"  DEAREST  SISTER  :  We  all  heard  of  your  illness  and  recovery,  and 
can  only  say,  thank  God  !  Oh,  if  I  could  have  seen  my  little  nephew 
once',  —  but  your  life  is  spared  !  Since  hearing  that  you  and  brother 
Henry  were  to  teach  little  children,  and  establish  schools,  and  help 
the  women  of  India,  mamma  and  cousin  Ellen,  and  several  other 


128  STORIES  AND    TALES 

ladies,  have  formed  a  society  to  send  you  out  -  money  and  books  reg- 
ularly ;  and  several  of  us  school  girls  are  going  to  have  a.  fair,  so  as 
to  send  you  a  heap  of  money  at  once,  and  this  is  on  purpose  for  the 
little  sewing-girls.  Hoping  this  good  news  will  make  you  strong  and 
well,  I  am  your  own 

"ROSALIE." 

After  reading  this  letter*  aloud,  the  missionaries  remained  silent 
for  a  few  moments,  struggling  with  their  emotions  ;  and  when  they 
could  again  speak,  it  was  to  renew  their  vows  of  fidelity  to  the  cause 
to  which  they  had  devoted  their  lives.  But  now  they  had  faith  as 
well  as  hope  to  cheer  them,  for  they  had  found  by  experience  that 
the  true  life  of  the  missionary  was  to  obey  Christ's  injunctions,  — • 

"FEED  MY  LAMBS." 


MR.    NIBLO. 

THE   BASHFUL   LECTURER. 

FROM  childhood  I  was  a  passionate  lover  of  science.  I  tore  my 
drum  to  pieces  to  examine  its  internal  mysteries  ;  my  kites  were  the 
envy  and  wonder  of  my  schoolmates,  so  trimly  were  they  cut  and 
so  nicely  balanced  ;  and  as  they  soared  above  all  others,  I  felt  an 
exaltation,  a  prophecy  of  eminence.  My  greatest  delight  was  chem- 
istry ;  it  even  rivalled  the  love  I  felt  for  a  fair  little  girl,  a  blue-eyed 
neighbor,  who  loved  me  in  spite  of  my  soiled  face  and  dyed  fingers. 
She  was  a  singular  contrast  to  the  young  experimenter,  whom  she 
occasionally  honored  with  a  visit  in  his  would-be  laboratory;  for 
there  was  a  purity  in  her  air,  as  if  no  stain  of  earth  could  dwell  on 
her ;  the  rose-tint  on  her  cheek  paled  off  to  a  transparent  white 
around  her  chin  and  throat ;  her  pencilled  eyebrows  lay  in  light 


FOR    THE    YOUNG.  12<) 


arches  on  her  serene  forehead  ;  her  flaxen  hair  fell  like  a  fleecy 
cloud  over  her  cambric  dress  which  emulated  snow,  and  her  hands, 
—  how  like  unsunned  alabaster  they  gleamed  beside  mine !  Her 
teacher  once  described  her  thus.  I  was  jealous  of  that  man. 

"  Behold  the  pupil  nymph  to  me  consigned, 
The  honored  guardian  of  her  opening  mind, 
In  all  the  bloom  and  sweetness  of  eleven  — 
Healtlj,  spirit,  grace,  intelligence  and  heaven  ! 
With  beauty  that  so  ravishingly  warms, 
It  seems  the  focus  of  all  nature's  charms. 
Yes  !  rival  rays  come  rushing  from  the  sky, 
Contending  which  shall  glisten  in  her  eye, 
And  anxious  zephyrs  play  her  lips  around, 
Soft  suing  to  be  moulded  into  sound. 
While  still,  from  each  exuberant  motion,  darts 
A  winning  multitude  of  artless  arts. 
And  then,  such  softness  with  such  smartness  joined, 
So  pure  a  heart,  with  such  a  knowing  mind ; 
So  very  docile  in  her  wildest  mood, 
Bad  by  mistake,  and  without  effort,  good ; 
So  broken  hearted  when  my  frown  dismays, 
So  humbly  thankful  when  I  please  to  praise  : 
So  circumspect,  so  fearful  to  offend, 
And  at  a  glance  so  ready  to  attend  ; 
With  memory  strong  and  wjth  perception  bright, 
Her  words  and  deeds  so  uniformly  right, 
That  scarce  one  foible  disconcerts  my  aims, 
And  care  and  trouble  —  do  not  name  their  names  ! 
But,  yes  !  I  have  one  anxious,  sacred  care, 
I  have  one  ceaseless  burden  of  my  prayer,  — 
'Tis  this  ;  Great  God  !  oh,  teach  me  to  be  just 
To  this  dear  charge  committed  to  my  trust ! " 

S.  GILMAN. 

Well,  this  bright  creature  who  could  waken  such  a  burst  of  en- 
thusiasm in  a  pedagogue,  was  the  chosen  one  of  my  boyhood  ;  but  I 
9 


130  STORIES  AND    TALES 

was  destined  to  lose  her  early.  It  was  her  habit  frequently  to  peep 
into  my  laboratory  and  ask  her  sweet  questions  about  the  mysteries 
of  my  craft.  One  day  she  advanced  farther  than  usual ;  tucking 
aside  her  snowy  dress,  and  stepping  on  tiptoe  for  fear  of  soiling  her 
trim  white  stockings,  she  stood  amid  my  crucibles  as  unharmed  as 
asbestos  in  a  flame,  her  light  hair  falling  backward,  and  her  blue 
eyes  upturned  in  pretty  curiosity.  I  had  been  preparing  oxygen  gas 
from  chlorate  of  potash,  in  a  small  glass  retort  over  an  Argand 
lamp,  by  which  method  it  can  be  obtained  much  purer  than  by  any 
other  way.  The  operation  was  successfully  proceeding,  and  the 
steady  flame  of  the  lamp  continued  to  evolve  the  gas,  as  it  gradu- 
ally escaped  through  the  neck  of  the  retort,  and  rose  in  brilliant 
globules  under  the  water  in  which  the  receiver  stood.  Intensely 
occupied  in  watching  the  decomposition  of  the  salt,  I  started  at  the 
sweet  tone  of  her  silvery  voice,  and  as  I  eagerly  advanced  towards 
her,  with  my  eyes  grimmed  and  bleared  with  smoke  and  heat,  and 
extended  my  stained  hand  to  welcome  her,  the  flame  unnoticed  rose 
too  high,  the  glass  shivered  into  fragments,  and  the  hot  contents  fell 
hissing  around  her.  She  shrank  back  to  avoid  the  broken  pieces, 
when  a  curl  of  her  beautiful  hair  caught  in  the  blaze  of  a  lamp  near 
her.  My  first  impulse  was  to  throw  over  her  a  diluted  solution  of 
nitrate  of  silver  (indelible  ink). 

The  flame  was  instantly  extinguished,  but  such  an  object  as  the 
poor  child  presented  !  The  fast-blackening  liquid  fell  dripping  from 
her  fair  locks,  and  ran  down  her  face  and  garments,  even  to  the 
little  foot  that  had  just  before  trodden  so  daintily.  The  lovely  girl's 
self-possession  vanished,  and  roaring  with  terror,  she  flew  from  the 
apartment  alarming  the  neighborhood  with  screams.  This  was  her 
last  visit  to  my  laboratory,  or  even  to  my  home  ;  she  became  shy, 
and  avoided  me.  I  soon  entered  college,  and  when  I  returned,  four 
years  after,  my  blue-eyed  beauty  was  a  bride. 

My  absorption  in  technical  books  began  to  give  an  awkward  and 


FOR    THE    YOUNG.  13! 


restrained  tone  to  my  manners  and  conversation,  while  a  want  of 
sympathy  with  those  around  me  made  me  unsocial  ;  a  burning  love 
of  science,  however,  and  a  hope  that  I  might  individually  enlighten 
the  world,  buoyed  me  up  with  a  silent  kind  of  vanity.  With  these 
feelings,  I  saw  my  home.  What  wonder  that  I  should  rush  to  my 
little  laboratory  with  intense  interest.  Parental  fondness  had  kept 
the  spot  sacred  ;  there  stood  the  furnace  and  the  crucibles,  and 
placed  neatly,  on  one  side  of  the  apartment,  the  nameless  articles  I 
had  used  as  expedients  in  my  experiments  abstracted  from  the 
kitchen  and  store-room,  for  which  I  had  been  sometimes  punished 
and  sometimes  praised.  There  was  the  very  spot,  too,  on  which 
my  first  love  had  been  inundated  with  that  fatal  nitrate. 

I  smiled,  but  it  was  sadly,  and  I  began  in  earnest  my  more  manly 
and  scientific  arrangements.  I  almost  hoped  such  blue  eyes  as  hers 
might  look  on  me  again.  But  I  soon  forgot  that  vision,  and  from 
that  period  my  whole  soul  seemed  centred  in  this  apartment.  I 
rushed  to  it  with  the  first  dawn  of  light,  and  the  night  lamps  of 
heaven  were  forgotten  for  its  fitful  rays.  Such  strong  and  passion- 
ate love  cannot  long  keep  within  a  narrow  channel,  it  will  burst 
forth,  and  fertilize  or  destroy.  Without  power  to  utter  in  conver- 
sation the  deep  stirrings  of  my  thoughts,  I  resolved  to  lecture,  to 
throw  myself  on  the  public  ;  it  seemed  to  me  that'  I  should  be  stim- 
ulated by  numbers,  and  I  was  confident  that  in  a  mixed  audience 
some  hearts  would  beat  responsive  to  the  enlightened  hopes  of  mine. 
Confirmed  in  this  opinion,  by  the  advice  of  my  family,  I  commenced 
writing  a  course  of  Lectures  on  Chemistry.  I  had  never  tried  my 
powers  of  elocution  beyond  the  college  walls,  and  the  themes  there 
having  no  immediate  interest  for  me,  were  sufficient  excuse  to  my 
mind  for  any  deficiency  of  grace  or  power.  The  moment  I  began 
to  write,  an  ambitious  thrill  ran  through  me,  and  I  poured  out  on 
paper,  paragraphs  that  I  thought  would  go  with  the  force  of  light 
and  sound  through  my  audience. 


132  STOKIES  AND    TALES 

The  morning  of  the  day  on  which  my  introductory  lecture  was  to 
be  delivered,  arrived.  I  read  and  re-read  the  advertisement  inserted 
by  my  father,  till  I  trembled  and  glowed  like  a  girl.  I  revised  my 
lecture  for  the  last  time,  and  inserted  here  and  there  slips  of  paper 
containing  additional  notes. 

The  evening  came,  and  I  stood  before  a  crowded  audience  of 
partial  townsmen.  If  my  readers  are  interested  in  this  moment, 
they  will  like  to  know  of  my  appearance.  I  was  twenty  four  years 
of  age,  spare,  and  of  middle  size,  pale,  with  somewhat  sharp  fea- 
tures ;  my  eyes  were  always  thought  remarkable  ;  they  were  of  a 
light  blue,  of  a  singular,  piercing  expression,  so  penetrating  that 
they  often  attracted  attention  in  a  crowd ;  and  yet,  strange  to  tell,  I 
could  never  fix  them  on  a  woman's  face.  I  felt  like  a  startled  deer 
when  a  woman's  eye  met  mine ;  but  this  peculiarity  was  compensated 
by  quickness  of  motion  that  made  me  see  without  seeming  to  ob- 
serve. My  hands  were  delicately  formed,  and  my  thin  hair  was 
scattered  on  a  high  forehead.  I  had  read  my  lecture  frequently 
aloud  in  my  own  apartment.  I  had  half  fancied  that  the  walls  shook 
under  the  power  of  my  language,  and  that  the  spirits  of  Bacon 
Priestly,  Lavoisier,  and  Black,  were  bending  down  in  angelic  sym- 
pathy. Thus  prepared,  I  stood  before  the  audience,  but  in  how 
different  a  frame! -as  I  glanced  around,  I  felt  myself  the  merest 
atom.  I  forgot  the  bow  that  I  had  made  twenty  times  before  my 
mirror,  my  eyes  began  to  swim,  my  teeth  to  chatter ;  the  rustling  of 
the  first  blank  leaf  that  I  turned,  sounded  like  thunder.  I  began  to 
speak  ;  my  voice  seemed  to  have  descended  jtwo  feet  in  my  system. 
I  lisped,  I  mumbled  out  one  page,  two  pages,  without  raising  my 
eyes  ;  then  came  a  reference  to  one  of  my  interlocutory  notes  ;  it 
had  slipped  out ;  I  could  not  find  it.  In  searching  for  it,  I  lost  my 
place,  began  three  wrong  sentences,  and  attempted  to  extemporize. 
It  was  in  vain,  and  crushing  my  manuscript  in  my  hand,  I  retreated 
from  the  hall,  hurried  through  the  streets,  and  locked  myself  in  my 


FOR    THE    YOUNG.  133 


own  chamber.  There  I  trod  the  floor  like  a  frantic  man,  until 
tears,  gushing  freely  as  a  schoolboy's,  came  to  my  relief.  I  left  my 
native  town  the  next  day. 

But  better  hopes  came  over  me.  I  condemned  myself  for  at- 
tempting a  lecture  without  experiments  ;  they  would  have  aided  me, 
I  thought.  Attention  would  have  been  drawn  away  from  myself  to 
them,  and  I  gradually  came  to  the  resolution  of  pronouncing  the 
same  course  of  lectures  among  strangers,  with  whom  I  flattered  my- 
self I  should  be  more  at  ease.  With  this  view  I  visited  a  neigh- 
boring city,  and  without  delivering  letters  or  seeking  patronage, 
issued  an  advertisement.  Of  all  seemingly  simple  things,  an  adver- 
tisement is  the  most  difficult  and  perplexing.  To  advance  one's 
claims  sufficiently  without  an  air  of  self-importance,  to  combine 
one's  meaning  in  a  few  words,  and  those  few  the  right  ones,  is  no 
small  task.  Few  who  glance  over  the  columns  of  a  daily  print,  are 
aware  of  the  waste  of  paper,  the  biting  of  nails,  and  the  knitting  of 
brows  that  have  attended  the  concocting  of  those  concise  looking 
squares. 

My  advertisement  appeared  :  — 

"  MR.  NIBLO,  from  Hdiuletown,  respectfully  informs  the  inhabitants 
of  Cityville  that  he  proposes  commencing  a  Course  of  Lectures  on  Chem- 
istry, and  kindred  subjects,  illustrated  by  various  interesting  experiments, 
beginning  with  an  introductory  Essay,  on  Thursday  evening,  which 
will  be  gratuitous" 

Here  was  no  trick  or  cant,  no  forced  comet-tail  of  patrons'  names, 
following  the  announcement.  My  hearers  would  come  from  the 
pure  love  of  science.  I  breathed  hard,  but  commenced  conveying 
my  apparatus  to  the  lecturing  hall.  On  the  way  I  broke  a  retort  of  ' 
great  value  and  rarity.  The  two  next  days  were  employed  in  vain 
endeavors  to  supply  its  place.  Every  lecturer  will  sympathize  with 
me  in  the  horror  I  felt  at  the  prospect  of  saying  to  my  audience,  in 
the  midst  of  a  brilliant  experiment,  "  This  should  be  so  and  so,  ladies 


134  STOK/ES  AA'D    TALES 

and  gentlemen,"  instead  of,  "This  is."  In  the  meantime,  I  was 
stimulated  and  comforted  by  the  daughter  of  my  hostess,  an  intelli- 
gent girl,  who  possessed  that  class  of  frank,  bright  manners,  that 
save  a  bashful  man  an  effort,  and  insensibly  put  him  at  his  ease. 

Lucia  Breck  had  just  passed  her  girlhood,  without  laying  aside 
her  simplicity.  Her  feelings  and  thoughts  gushed  out  like  a  full 
stream  ;  they  were  scarcely  wise  thoughts,  but  I  delighted  in  their 
freshness  ;  and  if  ever  she  bordered  on  silliness,  a  just  taste  brought 
her  back  again.  Her  eyes  were  dark  and  glittering,  and  her  brown 
hair  lay  smoothly  on  her  forehead.  Her  rounded  form  spoke  of 
youth  and  health,  and  her  cheek  was  mottled  with  "eloquent 
blood."  Impetuous  and  self-confident,  she  sometimes  startled 
those  who  loved  her,  who  forgot  how  soon  the  world  trammels  the 
exuberance  which  to  me  was  delicious  from  its  spontaneousness. 

I  scarcely  knew  how,  but  Lucia  was  often  by  my  side,  aiding  me 
in  my  preparations,  and  chatting  away  without  looking  at  me.  Her 
needle  was  usually  in  her  hand,  and  she  seemed  to  talk  as  much  to 
that  as  to  me.  Thursday  evening  arrived.  Lucia,  sweet  creature, 
sprang  about  like  a  fawn ;  her  eyes  glittered  with  expression,  and 
her  jests  and  laughter  rang  out  like  silver  bells.  We  went  with  her 
mother  to  the  hall.  I  had  visited  it  repeatedly  by  daylight,  but 
never  at  night.  As  we  entered  we  were  struck  with  "the  dim,  dis- 
astrous twilight."  A  few  tallow  candles,  like  sleepy  sentinels,  were 
placed  in  tin  hoops  against  the  walls,  and  two  ornamented  the  desk 
where  I  was  to  stand.  Who  has  not  felt  the  chill  of  a  badly-lighted 
apartment,  as  the  forms  glide  in  and  out  like  spectres  ?  As  it  was 
too  late  to  remedy  the  evil,  my  object  was  to  attract  immediate  at-- 
'  tention  to  my  experiments.  The  stillness  was  awful,  broken  only 
by  the  tinkling  of  the  glasses  in  my  trembling  hand. 

"  Now,  ladies  and  gentlemen,"  said  I,  "observe  this  receiver.  It 
is  filled  with  a  very  peculiar  gas.  It  has  hitherto  borne  the  name  of 
oxymuriatic  acid  gas  ;  but  you  will  yet  perceive  its  pale  yellow-green 


FOR    THE    YOUNG.  135 


color,  which  has  gained  it  from  Sir  Humphrey  Davy,  the  name  of 
chlorine.  I  shall  insert  this  small  piece  of  phosphorus  into  the 
vessel,  and  you  will  perceive  an  instantaneous  and  brilliant  combus- 
tion." Alas  !_for  me.  I  had  forgotten,  in  my  hurry,  that  chlorine  is 
rapidly  absorbed  by  cold  water,  and  I  had  been  so  long  detained  by 
the  slow  dropping  in  of  the  audience,  that  the  water  with  which  I 
had  filled  the  pneumatic  cisterns  was  entirely  chilled.  I  might 
have  noticed  that  the  gas  had  disappeared  but  for  the  dimness  of 
the  light.  Ignorant  of  this,  and  too  much  embarrassed  to  feel  if  the 
water  was  warm  or  not,  I  desperately  inserted  the  slight  stick  of 
phosphorus  which  I  had  a  thousand  times  admired.  In  vain  ;  dark 
and  quiet  all  remained.  This  was  a  sad  failure.  My  assumed  con- 
fidence vanished,  and  I  stammered  out  a  few  words,  endeavoring  to 
explain.  The  audience,  disappointed  as  they  were,  were  too  good- 
natured  to  manifest  any  strong  signs  of  disapprobation. 

I  determined  then  to  recover  my  fast-sinking  credit,  by  a  very 
beautiful  and  critical  experiment  by  the  union  of  the  gases  which 
are  the  constituents  of  water.  Oxygen  and  hydrogen  in  their  proper 
proportions,  had  been  prepared  beforehand,  in  a  tall  glass  tube. 
The  wire  from  the  voltaic  battery  had  been  introduced,  and  I  flat- 
tered myself  there  could  be  no  failure  here.  Again,  I  called  the 
attention  of  my  audience. 

"  Ladies  and  gentlemen,  I  wish  to  show  you  an  interesting  and 
exceedingly  beautiful  experiment ;  you  know  what  are  the  constituent 
parts  of  water ;  they  are  mixed  in  this  tube  "  (here  I  held  up  the 
tube  apparently  empty,  but  filled  with  the  invisible  gases),  "  in  their 
proper  proportions  and  gaseous  form  ;  I  shall  explode  them  by 
a  spark  from  the  battery,  and  you  will  see  a  small  portion  of 
water  produced  by  the  reunion  of  the  gases."  Unfortunately,  in 
replacing  the  tube,  I  permitted  the  gases  to  make  their  escape. 
Unconscious  of  this,  I  applied  my  freshly-charged  Leyden  vial  to 
the  eudiometer.  A  spark  shot  from  one  wire  to  the  other  across  the 
tube,  but  no  explosion  followed. 


136  STOX/F.S  AND    TALES 

The  audience  looked  and  listened  with  all  their  might ;  nothing 
was  visible  but  empty  vessels  ;  my  trembling  touch  had  caused  the 
gas  to  escape,  and  the  experiment  was  a  nullity.  Some  lecturers 
possess  the  happy  faculty  of  filling  up  with  fluent  remarks,  or  jests, 
such  awful  failures  ;  but  I  was  overwhelmed,  and  as  the  tube,  freed 
from  its  pent-up  gas,  shook  in  my  trembling  hand,  my  heart  sank 
within  me,  and  I  dashed  it  away.  Just  at  this  crisis  I  heard  an 
hysterical  giggle  from  Lucia.  I  was  angry  enough  to  have  put  her 
into  the  air-pump. 

Utterly  defeated  in  this  effort,  I  turned  my  attention  to  the  elec- 
tric machine.  My  audience  gathered  in  a  circle,  hand-in-hand.  I 
applied  the  battery.  Not  a  start  —  not  an  exclamation  !  My  wires 
were  as  innocent  as  lambs  ;  my  audience  looked  at  me  between 
curiosity  and  ridicule,  and  retired  to  their  seats,  and  again  Lucia's 
laugh  met  my  ear.  At  this  crisis,  one  of  those  annoyances  com- 
monly called  a  thief,  took  possession  of  one  my  tallow  candles.  It 
sank  rapidly  until  the  flame  reached  the  paper  which  enveloped  it 
at  the  socket.  I  had  no  extinguisher,  and  was  obliged  to  stop  in 
the  midst  of  a  sentence  to  puff  and  blow  at  the  increasing  blaze.  I 
forbear  to  describe  the  utter  forlornity  of  my  feelings  and  appear- 
ance as  I  stood  before  the  upshooting  rays  of  that  dying  candle.  I 
dismissed  my  audience,  and  almost  clutching  Lucia's  passive  arm, 
returned  home. 

It  was  necessary  that  an  effort  should  be  made  to  secure  an  audi- 
ence for  the  next  lecture,  after  that  failure.  I  laid  aside  my  noble 
disdain  of  patronage,  and.  examining  my  letters  of  introduction, 
selected  those  which  were  addressed  to  the  most  influential  persons, 
and  calling  on  them,  requested  their  advice.  I  was  courteously 
received  by  all,  and  allowed  to  use  names  at  discretion.  Friendly 
hands  greeted  me,  and  cordial  bows  dismissed  me  with  wishes  and 
prophecies  of  success.  I  inserted  costly  advertisements  with  the 
formerly  despised  comet-tail  of  patrons,  and  determining  that  the 


FOR    THE    YOUNG.  137 


hall  should  be  well  lit,  spared  no  pains  or  expense  for  the  perfect 
illumination.  Lucia  was  sure  that  all  would  go  off  well. 

"  You  wanted  nothing  but  light,"  said*  she,  "  to  have  made  the 
last  lecture  capital ;  besides,  people  knew  that  the  matter  of  an 
introductory  lecture  will  be  repeated  in  the  course,  and  they  are  less 

anxious  to  attend.  I  am  sure  I  saw  Mr. ,  and  Mr. •  in  one 

corner,  on  Thursday,  but  then  it  was  so  dark.  But,  dear  Mr.  Niblo, 
we  will  have  a  glorious  time  to-morrow  !  " 

Sweet  Lucia  ! 

The  evening  came.  I  started,  with  Lucia  on  my  arm,  ten  min- 
utes before  the  time.  We  saw  the  brilliant  lights  of  the  hall  spark- 
ling up  as  we  turned  the  square,  and  they  burst  upon  us  as  we 
entered  the  hall,  while  the  polished  brass  of  my  apparatus  shone  in 
their  beams. 

"Give  me  a  front  seat,"  whispered  Lucia,  "where  I  can  see  and 
hear  without  being  crowded." 

I  seated  her,  and  went  behind  the  desk  to  look,  for  the  hundredth 
time,  if  all  was  in  order.  The  clock  struck  eight, — the  appointed 
hour.  No  one  appeared.  Twice  I  was  deceived  by  the  door- 
keeper's reconnoitring.  Quarter  past-  eight.  Not  a  soul.  I  could 
not  look  at  Lucia  Half  past  eight.  An  old  gentleman  entered 
and  took  his  seat  at  a  distance.  He  blew  his  nose.  Mercy,  how  it 
reverberated  !  Another  quarter  of  an  hour  elapsed.  I  dismissed 
the  old  gentleman,  who  claimed  his  money  of  the  door-keeper,  and 
Lucia  almost  led  me  home. 

A  few  of  my  acquaintances  rallied  ;  they  knew  that  my  expenses 
had  been  great,  and  by  dint  of  puffing  and  appealing,  with  a  promise 
that  I  should  exhibit  some  transparencies,  a  lecture  was  got  up  by 
subscription.  A  breeze  was  given  by  some  leading  people  adding 
their  names,  and  on  the  first  of  March,  18 — ,  I  stood  before  a  large 
and  fashionable  audience.  My  experiments  were  brilliant,  and 
Lucia's  eyes  were  as  bright  as  phosphorus.  Applause  ran  through 


138  STOKfES  AND   TALES 

the  apartment  at  my  success.  I  forgot  my  diffidence,  threw  by  my 
notes,  and  poured  forth  the  tribute  to  science  which  had  been 
burning  like  silent  fire  in -my  bosom. 

"  And  now,  ladies  and  gentlemen,"  I  said,  in  a  voice  of  unhesi- 
tating dignity,  "  let  me  call  your  attention  to  a  beautiful  experiment, 
which,  though  of  secondary  importance  in  science,  is  still  attractive, 
like  the  gems  which  glitter  over  the  brows  of  the  fair." 

With  this  flourish,  \  directed  their  attention  to  a  union  which  I 
was  about  to  make  of  nitrate  of  ammonia  and  chlorine,  and  which  I 
expected  would  prove  a  very  beautiful  experiment,  but  which  re- 
quires peculiar  care  ;  for,  after  being  together  for  a  long  time,  a 
highly-explosive  substance  forms,  which  detonates  with  great  vio- 
lence upon  the  contact  of  any  oil.  Unfortunately,  a  small  portion 
of  oil  adhered  to  the  rod  which  I  introduced,  and  a  most  terrible 
explosion  followed.  A  jar  of  sulphuretted  hydrogen  stood  near, 
and  its  contents  were  liberally  diffused,  filling  the  room  with  appal- 
ling odors. 

Splinters  of  glass  with  the  colored  mixture  spirted  around  the 
apartment.  In  an  instant  the  jetty  broadcloth  of  gentlemen  and 
rich  silk  of  the  ladies  shared  a  common  fate  ;  groans  of  fright  and 
disgust,  screams  and  laughter,  mingled  discordantly ;  friend  scarcely 
recognized  friend,  as  the  vile  preparation  adhered  to  their  faces.  I 
flew  to  Lucia  ;  her  new  bonnet,  her  only  silk  frock,  were  ruined. 
As  we  walked  home  in  silence,  her  good  nature  was  fairly  overcome  ; 
and  when  we  reached  the  door,  she  flung  herself  angrily  from  my 
arm,  exclaiming,  that  she  "  wished  chemistry  was  in  the  Dead  Sea." 
I  said  Amen,  and  retreated  to  my  chamber  in  despair. 

I  am  far  from  wishing,  by  the  above  narration  of  my  calamitous 
debut  as  a  lecturer,  to  intimidate  others.  Many  years  have  rolled 
away  since  that  disastrous  experience,  and  crowded  audiences  have 
testified  to  my  success.  The  name  of  Dr.  Niblo  is  not  unknown  in 


tFOR    THE    YOUNG.  139 


foreign  academies,  while  he  reaps  at  home  the  advantages  of  a  suc- 
cessful professorship  ;  while  another  Lucia,  a  pretty  fairy,  with  eyes 
like  her  mother's,  and  the  same  round  and  merry  laugh,  wipes  his 
spectacles  and  hangs  upon  his  arm.  C.  G. 


THE     YOUNG     CONSPIRATORS. 

At  the  revolution  in  Naples,  in  1779,  two  young  brothers  were  condemned  to 
death,  and  upon  the  entreaties  of  the  mother  for  their  lives,  the  king's  attorney 
told  her  she  could  choose  between  them. 

THE  flames  of  Vesuvius  were  hidden  in  a  bright  morning  sun  that 
lay  in  glory  on  the  noble  bay  at  its  feet,  when  two  Neapolitan  boys 
were  seen  issuing  from  a  vine-clad  way,  removed  from  the  populous 
city.  They  were  followed  by  an  attendant  bearing  a  basket  of  fruit, 
and  their  laugh  rang  free  and  wild  upon  the  morning  air,  its  hilarity 
tempered  by  the  grace  of  courtesy.  They  were  brothers,  alike,  yet 
differing.  When  the  laugh  was  past,  a  tender  thoughtfulness,  as 
when  a  cloud  presses  on  dying  sunbeams,  shaded"  the  face  of  the 
younger ;  while  lines  of  light,  like  the  twilight  of  their  own  clime, 
lingered  upon  that  of  the  elder.  Amid  the  play  of  youthful  fancies 
was  mingled  a  classic,  softened  grace,  called  out  by  the  nature  of 
their  studies,  the  ancient  ruins  around  them,  and  a  yet  softer  impulse 
that  urged  them  towards  a  widowed  mother,  for  whose  morning  meal 
they  had  selected  the  choicest  of  fruits.  Rosalba  de  Soria,  who 
awaited  her  sons'  return  at  the  door  of  her  villa,  stood  in  the  glow 
of  perfect,  matronly  beauty,  for  the  sorrow  of  the  widow  had  had 
compensations  in  the  mother's  love.  Ferdinand,  the  elder  youth, 
pressed  her  extended  hand,  while  Lorenzo  received  her  kiss  on  his 
ready  lips. 


I4O  STOKIES  AND    TALES 

• 

The  education  of  the  boys,  though  conducted  in  retirement,  did 
not  prevent  familiarity  with  the  scenes  of  classic  interest  around 
them.  They  glided  on  the  beautiful  bay,  with  its  garden-like  bor- 
ders, where  vineyards,  groves  and  villages  blend  in  delightful  har- 
mony, and  they  saw  the  skiffs  darting  from  shore  to  shore,  or  pleasure 
barques  with  ornamental  streamers  and  musical  accompaniments, 
glancing  like  summer  birds  in  plumage  and  sound. 

They  climbed  to  the  heights  that  overlook  the  delicious  country 
of  Campania  Felix,  and  their  eyes  wandered  far  over  islands  and 
seas.  Sometimes  Rosalba  paused  with  them  at  the  tomb  of  Virgil, 
awakening  the  love  of  poetry  in  their  souls  ;  sometimes  they  sojourned 
at  Pozzuoli,  where  the  grandeur  of  the  sea  beyond  rivalled  the  open- 
ing glory  of  countless  flowers  at  their  feet ;  or,  the  wonders  of  Her- 
culaneum  and  Pompeii  attracted  their  curious  regards.  But  the  most 
delightful  enjoyment  was  to  sit  with  Rosalba  in  the  balcony  of  their 
villa,  and  listen  to  the  story  of  their  brave  father,  while  the  stars 
twinkled  above,  and  Vesuvius  threw  out  its  fires  on  the  darkened 
sky. 

Nor  were  they  debarred  access  to  the  populous  city,  where  their 
little  knowledge  of  the  world  received  an  increase.  The  great  street 
of  the  Toledo,  itself  a  world,  formed  an  exciting  contrast  to  the 
romantic  seclusion  of  their  home.  The  following  description  will 
reveal  the  animated  scene  which  was  such  a  fascination  to  the  young 
students :  — 

"  The  great  street  of  the  Toledo  presents  the  most  amusing  scene. 
Every  one  has  a  costume  as  peculiar  to  himself  as  if  attending  a 
masked  ball.  The  sun  flung  bright  lights  here  and  there,  while  the 
lofty  htmses  cast  their  shadows  in  other  quarters.  A  merry  fellow, 
with  a  dozen  tamborines  arranged  and  perched  upon  his  head,  while 
he  played  on  another,  dressed  in  a  cloth  cap,  round  jacket,  blue 
waistcoat  and  red-striped  trousers,  invited  the  world  to  buy  a  be- 
guiler  of  tears  for  the  baby  at  home.  Next,  a  green-grocery  man 


FOR    THE    YOUNG.  14! 

caught  the  eye  ;  his  donkey  is  laden  with  a  mat  sack  balanced  on 
both  sides  with  large  mouths,  where  cabbages,  cauliflowers,  salads 
and  celery  are  heaped  in  verdant  abundance.  A  sugar-loafed  hat, 
flatted  at  the  top,  is  over  a  worsted  cap.  His  swarthy  face  and  neck 
defy  the  sun.  A  pipe  in  his  mouth,  red  vest  and  short  calico 
breeches  complete  his  apparel.  No  stockings  »hath  he,  nor  shoe, 
nor  sandal.  He  and  his  donkey  seem  to  be  brothers.  A  pious 
piper  begins  the  labors  of  the  day  before  some  shrine  of  the  Virgin, 
where  a  lamp  is  burning.  His  instrument  of  three  tubes  derives  its 
melody  from  a  bag  of  wind,  which  he  fills  from  his  own  lungs.  His 
pointed  hat  is  clapped  on  the  top  of  his  bag  while  he  plays  his  pro- 
pitiating prayer  for  success.  His  night-cap  is  displayed  on  his  inno- 
cent cerebellum,  his  curly  hair  flowing  beneath,  and  showing  -off  his* 
ruddy,  distended  cheek.  His  green  coat,  sleeveless  mantle,  ash-col- 
ored breeches,  and  linen  wrapped  round  his  legs  for  stockings,  shows 
that  he  has  not  been  blowing  to  the  shrine  in  vain ;  for  he  looks  a 
very  respectable  tradesman  in  his  way,  and  need  not  be  ashamed  of 
his  profession. 

"Venders  of  roast  chestnuts  are  numerous  in  the  Toledo.  They 
have  prescriptive  stations  where  they  fix  their  stalls,  within  which  a 
small  charcoal  fire  burns  and  gives  its  heat  to  a  basket  filled  with 
the  fruit,  placed  on  the  top,  and  covered  with  a  blanket  to  keep  the 
nuts  hot.  These  people  are  a  thrifty  set,  and  well-dressed.  The 
man  has  a  red  worsted  cap,  silk  handkerchief  round  his  neck,  yellow 
vest,  green  round  jacket,  pants  of  blue ;  clean  white  stockings,  neat 
shoes,  a  stool  to  stand  on,  and  one  to  sit  upon,  as  business  or  relaxa- 
tion may  require.  He  cries  out  his  wares  at  the  pitch  of  his  voice, 
holding  his  left  hand  to  his  cheek  to  render  it  louder. 

"  But  have  you  seen  the  melon  man  ?  There  is  a  picture  of  inde- 
pendence. A  ragged  suit  of  loose  trousers,  pretty  good  vest,  yellow 
or  sky  blue,  and  part  of  a  shirt,  are  all  that  he  requires.  A  long 
board  is  balanced  on  his  head,  displaying  the  fruit  blushing  in  its 


142  STORIES  AND    TALES 

slices  ;  and  on  the  palm  of  his  left  hand,  equally  poised,  is  a  shorter 
board,  exhibiting  another  sample  of  his  merchandise,  while  in  his 
right  hand  he  waves  a  sprig  of  myrtle. 

"  \Vho  is  he  with  that  snug  capote  and  hood,  and  pretty  little  bask- 
ets piled  up  under  his  arm,  running  along  barelegged  ?  A  fisher- 
man who  sells  the  most  delicate  fresh  herring  in  the  world,  just  taken 
from  the  bay.  The  bottle  vender,  whom  he  has  almost  knocked 
down  in  his  haste,  is  a  still  greater  curiosity.  Long  wooden  pins  are 
stuck  all  round  the  edge  of  his  basket,  on  which  very  thin  flasks 
with  long  necks  for  oil  or  wine  are  attached.  He  looks  like  a  high 
priest  of  Bacchus,  with  his  merry  face,  always  sure  of  a  market,  for 
the  flasks  are  so  speedily  broken  open  that  he  can  scarcely  supply 
•all  of  his  customers. 

"  The  Segretario  is  another  picture.  Seated  at  his  table  in  a  quiet 
corner  of  the  street,  with  a  wise-looking  hat  shading  his  gray  locks, 
spectacles  on  his  nose,  paper,  pens,  ink-bottles,  and  and  wafers  in 
due  order  before  him,  he  waits  to  indite  a  petition,  or  a  love-letter, 
or  a  letter  from  a  sailor  to  his  mother,  or  from  a  creditor  to  a  debtor, 
or  a  law  paper,  or  a  memorandum.  He  is  prompt,  methodical,  con- 
fidential, and  a  valuable  sort  of  person,  who  attracted  my  particular 
respect  on  account  of  the  unwearied  patience  with  which  he  waited 
for  his  customers  who  were  too  few  and  far  between. 

"  The  pride  of  Toledo,  in  their  own  opinion,  at  least,  are  the  money- 
changers. They  are  generally  females,  who  display  their  riches  in 
the  ornaments  on  their  persons.  The  braided  hair  is  tied  under  a 
dashing  silk  handkerchief,  knotted  in  front  coquettishly.  The  broad 
forehead,  sharp  eye  and  intelligent  face  show  that  if  her  ladyship 
makes  any  mistake  in  the  reckoning,  it  will  not  be  to  her  loss.  She 
sits  there  before  her  strong  box,  on  the  top  of  which  are  little  bask- 
ets filled  with  silver  or  copper  coins.  A  pair  of  real  gold  rings 
dangle  from -her  ears.  Her  open  neck  displays  a  pearl  necklace. 
A  velvet  spencer,  chintz  gown,  silk  apron,  and  fingers  covered  with 


FOR   THE    YOUNG.  143 


rings,  attract  customers  on  all  sides.  The  itinerant  trader,  who  dis- 
poses of  "his  stock  early,  and  is  laden  with  copper  pence,  changes  his 
into  silver  at  her  table,  on  which  she  receives  her  small  commission. 
The  shop  dealers  that  want  accommodation  in  either  way,  —  coppers, 
gold,  or  silver,  —  are  sure  of  finding  all  they  want  at  the  money- 
changer's stall.  An  umbrella  fixed  on  her  counter '  forms  a  canopy 
over  her  head,  to  protect  her  highness  from  the  sun. 

"  Not  quite  so  opulent,  but  much  more  captivating,  are  the  female 
venders  of  fried  fish, — magnificent  women,  fresh  from  the  seaside. 
You  will  know  them  by  their  yellow  kerchiefs,  gypsy  faces,  snow- 
white  sleeves  tucked  up  their  beautiful  arms,  and  their  red  aprons 
and  blue  gowns.  Of  these  syrens  let  the  fish-eater  beware ! 

"With  an  earthen  pan  and  charcoal  fire  she  browns  and  cooks  her 
soles  and  herring,  taking  the  live  fish  from  her  basket  of  dried  flags 
at  her  side.  Her  bony  figure  seated  on  a  stool  and  her  well-dressed 
feet  peeping  from  beneath  her  long  petticoat,  St.  Anthony  himself 
would  not  refuse  to  take  a  fry  or  two  from  those  clean  taper  fingers. 
She  holds  the  fish  on  a  skewer,  and  turns  the  little  martyr  round  and 
round  until  he  is  done  to  a  turn,  the  mouth  watering  while  the  fra- 
grant odor  breathes  around. 

"The  egg  woman  is  a  more  quiet  kind  of  body,  though  she  seems 
to  be  sitting  for  her  picture,  dressed  in  her  tidy  green  apron,  russet 
gown,  and  linen  sleeves,  and  her  ruby  kerchief  thrown  back  over 
her  head.  Next  comes,  shouting  his  '  Oil  to  sell ! '  a  great  farmer- 
looking  boy,  in  a  gay  straw  hat.  A  goaf-skin  sack  of  oil  is  tied 
round  his  left  shoulder,  through  the  tail  of  which  the  smooth  liquid 
descends  into  a  brass  measure  for  the  customers  whom  he  serves. 

"  The  porters,  waiting  for  jobs,  with  their  picturesque  dress  and  long 
pipes  in  their  mouths,  form  a  kingdom  among  themselves.  He  holds 
his  oblong  square  flag-basket  always  ready  for  the  bundles  of  his 
employers.  At  every  corner  of  the  street  macaroni  is  served  from 
morning  until  night,  hot  or  cold,  in  its  own  plain  soup,  or  mingled 


144  STORIES  AND    TALES 

with  a  savory  stew  boiled  or  baked,  or  in  cakes,  or  in  elongated 
ropes  of  about  a  mile  in  length.  When  graced  by  the  soup  it  is 
most  popular.  It  is  handed  smoking  hot  to  the  ragged  customer, 
who,  without  any  ceremony,  takes  up  the  macaroni  between  his 
fingers,  and  introducing  the  extremities  of  three  or  four  ropes  at 
once  into  his  thorax  lifts  his  hands  high  in  air  and  the  whole  dishful 
vanishes  in  a  trice.  The  soup  is  drank  at  discretion  with  a  wooden 
spoon,  or  out  of  the  dish  itself,  —  the  latter  mode  being  generally 
preferred.  The  water-vender  is  met  everywhere  and  at  all  hours. 
The  ice-man  is  more  stationary,  but  equally  persevering.  Here,  the 
female  restorer  of  old  chairs  is  busy  with  her  rushes.  There,  the 
smirking  milliner's  maid  is  tripping  it  with  the  band-box  in  her  hand  ; 
she  is  wholly  French,  and  out  of  keeping  with  her  trim  cap  and 
ribbons  with  the  rest  of  the  scene.  Every  one  lives  in  the  street. 
The  bakers'  shop  is  so  open  that  everything  within  is  public.  It  is 
the  same  with  the  tinman  who  incessantly  hammers  ;  the  blacksmith 
whose  bellows  are  always  blowing  and  urging  up  a  fierce  fire,  and 
whose  anvil  never  rests  a  moment. 

"All  the  gay  shops  are  in  the  Toledo.  All  the  pretty  women  of 
Naples  show  off  in  the  Toledo.  There  the  idler  lounges,  there  the 
merchants  meet,  there  the  military  men  ride  or  walk  up  and  down 
in  their  splendid  uniforms." 

Yet  amid  this  gay  and  brilliant  population  floated  the  seed  of 
those  revolutions  which  have  so  often  marked  the  political  history 
of  Naples. 

On  one  occasion  Lorenzo  was  purchasing  at  a  stall  .in  this  busy 
scene.  Ferdinand's  attention  was  arrested  by  an  individual,  who, 
unseen  to  others,  beckoned  him  apart.  A  cloak  and  slouched  hat 
concealed  his  face  and  figure  ;  but  his  piercing  eyes  shot  through  the 
folds.  Ferdinand  obeyed  the  summons,  warned  to  silence  by  the 
uplifted  finger  of  the  stranger.  Withdrawing  just  far  enough  to 
keep  Lorenzo  in  view  he  uttered  a  few  words  to  the  listening  youth. 


FOR   THE   YOUNG.  145 


A  flush  *of  surprise  lit  up  Ferdinand's  face,  followed  by  an  air  of 
intense  interest  and  chained  attention  until  Lorenzo  turned  inquir- 
ingly. 

"  Remember,"  said  the  stranger,  fixing  his  piercing  eye  upon  the 
boy,  " trust,  secrecy"  and  he  disappeared  in  the  crowd. 

From  that  moment  a  thoughtful  expression  gathered  on  Ferdi- 
nand's brow,  —  something  which  gave  it  the  stamp  of  manhood. 
The  quiet  of  his  home  was  no  longer  attractive  ;  the  Toledo  alone 
engaged  his  thoughts,  and  when  there,  his  restless  eyes  seemed  in 
search  of  some  one.  At  the  same  hour,  on  the  spot,  the  next  week, 
the  stranger  appeared.  Ferdinand,  already  taught  the  language  of 
deception,  beguiled  his  brother  to  a  distance.  Then  followed  whis- 
pered, emphatic  words,  and  the  keen  eyes  of  the  stranger  seemed 
to  search  the  innermost  soul  of  the  youth  as  his  parting  words  were, 
"trust,  secrecy" 

The  next  day  Lorenzo  went  alone  to  the  Toledo,  and  as  he  strolled 
carelessly  along,  glancing  at  the  sights  around  him,  he  felt  a  slight 
but  emphatic  touch  upon  his  shoulder.  He  turned,  and  the  stranger's 
eyes  were  upon  him.  His  first  feeling  was  to  escape  ;  but  a  deep 
voice  of  authority  said,  "Follow  me,  for  your  country  demands 
you." 

Lorenzo  shook  off  his  fear,  and  with  curiosity  followed  the  figure, 
who,  threading  the  crowd,  led  him  to  a  retired  spot.  Whatever  the 
uttered  words  were,  they  took  deep  hold  of  the  sensitive  boy,  and 
as  the  stranger  on  departing  uttered  the  watchwords,  " trust,  secrecy" 
Lorenzo  laid  his  hand  upon  his  throbbing  breast  and  responded  with 
a  prayer. 

From  that  day  there  was  a  struggle  in  his  hitherto  calm  existence, 
that  shook  its  very  depths.  He  became  reserved  to  Ferdinand,  but 
a  deeper  tenderness  characterized  his  manner  to  his  mother,  mingled 
'with  a  fitfulness  and  impetuosity  that  almost  alarmed  her.  He  fol- 
lowed her  footsteps  like  one  whom  he  feared  to  lose. 
10 


146  STORIES  AND    TALES 

• 
It  was  one  of  those  bright  nights  that  woo  to  watchfulness  rather 

than  to  slumber,  when  Ferdinand  leaned  from  his  casement,  and 
looked  upon  the  moonlit  scene.  But  it  was  not  the  softness  of 
night's  smile  that  wooed  him  to  where  the  moonlight  decked  the 
meanest  leaf  with  a  diamond  glitter ;  nor  was  the  glow  on  his  beard- 
less cheek  awakened  by  its  mellow  hue,  —  "trust,  secrecy"  were 
whispered  by  a  muffled  figure  retreating  through  the  shrubbery,  while 
Ferdinand  held  his  breath  to  hear.  He  glanced  hurriedly  at  Lo- 
renzo, who  lay  wrapt  in  the  innocent  beauty  of  sleep.  While  Ferdi- 
nand looked,  a  troubled  smile  crossed  trie  lips  of  the  dreamer,  and 
he  whispered,  "trust,  secrecy."  His  tones  were  low  and  soft  as  a 
woman's  first  answer  to  love,  but  they  darted  through  his  brother's 
ear  like  a  thunder-clap.  His  first  impulse  was  to  arouse  and  tax  him 
as  a  listener ;  but  the  profoundness  of  his  repose  contradicted  this 
belief,  and  he  left  him  to  his  slumbers  while  with  mingled  emotions 
he  sought  his  own  rest. 

At  the  same  hour  on  the  following  night,  the  stranger  appeared. 

"  Our  secret  is  known,"  said  Ferdinand. 

"  How  ? "  cried  the  stranger,  grasping  a  dagger  beneath  his  cloak. 

"  Lorenzo  whispered  the  watchword  in  his  sleep,"  said  his  brother. 

"  Noble  boys ! "  exclaimed  the  man,  a  smile  crossing  his  dark 
countenance,  like  a  ray  struggling  through  a  cloud.  "  No  trust  is 
betrayed.  I  have  confided  to  him  that  I  might  trust  you  both.  The 
time  draws  near  for  action." 

"  But  he  is  so  young,"  hesitated  Ferdinand  ;  "  and  our  mother,  — 
how  can  we  risk  her  happiness  ? " 

"  It  is  a  woman's  fate  to  yield  and  suffer,"  said  the  stranger, 
moodily.  "  I,  too,  have  ties  to  rend  "  ;  and  his  thrilling  sigh  sounded 
in  the  stillness.  "  Awaken  Lorenzo." 

Ferdinand  went  to  the  bedside  and  touched  the  slumberer's  arm. 
His  was  the  delicious  repose  of  youth,  which  clung  to  him  like  a 
garment. 


FOR    THE    YOUNG. 


"  Lorenzo,  Lorenzo,  awake  !  " 

The  boy  turned  languidly,  half  opened  his  eyes,  and  throwing  his 
arm  over  his  head  again,  fell  asleep. 

"  Trusf,  secrecy"  whispered  Ferdinand  in  his  ear. 

The  word  was  like  flame  to  the  mine  ;  he  started  wildly  from  the 
bed,  planted  his  foot  firmly  upon  the  floor,  and  exclaimed,  — 

" Ready ! " 

Ferdinand  drew  his  arm  within  his  own,  and  in  a  few  moments 
they  were  in  a  recess  of  the  garden  with  the  stranger. 

There  was  an  expression  Of  anxiety  and  alarm  on  the  countenance 
of  the  youths  as  he  unfolded  his  plans. 

"  It  is  robbery,"  murmured  Lorenzo  ;  "  robbery  of  a  mother,  too." 

"  Things  have  a  different  name  under  different  circumstances, 
young  gentlemen,"  said  the  stranger.  "  History  will  call  the  deed 
patriotism.  The  noble  band  who  have  resolved  to  rescue  the  state 
from  oppression,  have^worn  that  none  of  the  softer  affections  shall 
stand  between  them  and  their  country.  If  you  drive  away  these 
boyish  feelings,  and  procure  me  the  paper  from  your  mother's  cab- 
inet, you  aid  in  that  for  which  heroes  have  sacrificed  more  than 
paltry  gold.  And,  remember,"  he  continued,  while  a  flickering 
moonbeam  brought  out  the  aggravated  expression  of  a  sinister  coun- 
tenance, "  that  you  are  pledged,  known,  to  me.  If  our  party  succeed, 
—  and  success  is  almost  as  certain  as  that  the  skies  are  above  us,  — 
your  mother  will  be  elevated  to  the  rank  that  she  deserves.  If,  how- 
ever, you  stop  in  this  movement,  and  I  betray  you,  as  I  swear  to 
heaven  I  will,  she  will  be  implicated ;  for  who  will  believe,  boys  as 
you  are,  that  you  act  voluntarily  ? " 

Sad  it  is  to  unloose  the  first  strong  link  of  filial  sympathy,  when 
no  contact  with  the  world  has  dimmed  the  brightness  and  beauty  of 
the  chain.  How  often,  through  the  long  day  that  followed  that  night, 
tears  started  to  Lorenzo's  eyes,  and  groans,  in  the  solitude  of  his 
chamber,  burst  /rom  Ferdinand's  heart ! 


148  STORIES  AND    TALES 

Darkness  came,  —  how  unlike  the  starry  nights  of  innocent  days ! 
Every  wind  seemed  to  murmur,  every  leaf  seemed  to  swell  the  word 
"treachery,  treachery." 

Their  mother  slept ;  their  beautiful  and  good  mother,  who  had 
nursed  them  at  her  breast,  who  had  watched,  not  betrayed,  their 
slumbers,  who  had  taught  their  lips  to  pray  against  temptation.  The 
cabinet  to  which  the  stranger  referred  was  in  a  dressing-room  next  to 
her  sleeping  apartment.  They  went  together  with  the  hurried  step 
of  young  deception.  As  they  passed  her  door,  the  moonbeams  re- 
vealed her  form,  —  they  faltered,  —  a  voice,  low  beneath  the  case- 
ment, was  heard  thrilling  " trust,  secrecy"  They  delayed  no  longer ; 
the  spring  yielded  to  their  touch,  and  the  pap'er  was  soon  eagerly 
grasped  by  the  stranger. 

A  few  weeks  rolled  away.  Rumors  were  abroad  of  danger  to  the 
State.  Many  individuals  were  seized  on  suspicion  of  conspiracy. 
Rosalba  knew  not  why,  but  there  seemed  something  like  a  blight  on 
her  once  cheerful  household.  A  haughty  defiance  sat  on  Ferdinand's 
brow  as  he  read  the  papers  of  the  day,  while  the  healthy  glow  on 
Lorenzo's  cheek  faded,  or  was  brilliant  with  a  sudden  flush.  Ro- 
salba watched  her  boys  as  a  mother  will  watch  the  casket  where  her 
heart's  treasures  are  enshrined.  She  felt  that  the  bitter  moment  had* 
come  when  parental  sympathy  was  unasked,  when  the  moorings  of 
youthful  confidence  were  severed,  and  the  barque  thrust  forth  on  life's 
wide  sea  alone.  She  stood  like  a  wintry  tree  deserted  by  sunshine. 

There  had  been  a  tranquil  day,  undisturbed  by  rumor  or  appre- 
hension, and  at  twilight  Rosalba  and  her  sons  sat  in  their  favorite 
bower.  Something  of  the  lovely  confidence  of  the  past  was  restored. 
Lorenzo  leaned  with  his  arm  around  his  mother's  neck,  and  Ferdi- 
nand threw  himself  on  the  turf  at  her  feet,  his  flashing  eyes  softened 
by  her  gentle  smiles. 

"  How  like  your  father  you  are  growing,"  said  she,  as  she  pressed 
her  lips  on  his  forehead. 


FOR    THE    YOUNG. 


"I  shall  be  jealous,  mother,"  said  Lorenzo,  "for  I  call  such  kisses 
mine."  And  he  turned  her  cheek  with  his  hand  until  it  came  in 
contact  with  his  own. 

They  were  interrupted  by  strange  voices,  and  suddenly  there  stood 
before  the  group  several  officers  of  police,  who  arrested  the  boys 
as  prisoners  of  state.  Rosalba  sat  for  a  moment  like  one  in  a 
dream. 

"This  is  some  strange  mistake,"  at  length  she  said  to  them. 
"  These  are  mere  children,  and  have  scarcely  ever  wandered  from 
my  side." 

The  men  showed  their  orders,  —  they  were  definite,  the  individuals 
could  not  be  mistaken,  and  they  were  charged  with  conspiracy. 

Rosalba  turned  from  the  men  and  wildly  urged  the  boys  to  assert 
their  innocence.  Her  heart  sank  within  her  at  their  statue-like 
silence.  The  movements  of  revolutionary  periods  are  rapid  and 
decided.  They  were  conveyed  to  prison  before  her  eyes,  and  soon 
sentenced  to  death. 

Rosalba  hastened  to  the  authorities,  and  with  tears  and  prayers, 
implored  their  pardon.  The  answer  was,  that  one  could  be  saved, 
and  she  might  choose  between  them. 

She  repaired  to  the  prison,  broken-hearted.  They  were  in  differ- 
ent cells.  As  she  entered  the  first,  the  light  through  the  grating  fell 
strongly  on  Ferdinand,  and  now  flashed  forth  to  her  sight  in  stronger 
lines  the  likeness  to  his  father.  Those  deep  full  «eyes  were  his  ;  that 
forehead  and  retreating  curls  were  his ;  the  compressed  lip  and 
manly  bearing  were  his  ;  and  his,  too,  the  smile  that  was  to  be  so  soon 
extinguished  forever.  She  sank  into  his  arms. 

Ferdinand  supported  her  to  his  wretched  pallet,  kissed  her  cold 
cheek,  upon  which  his  big  tears  fell  fast,  and  bade  her  be  comforted. 

"  Comfort !  O,  God  !  comfort !  "  shrieked  the  widow,  in  the  first 
paroxysm  of  hopeless  wretchedness ;  "  where,  where,  but  in  the 
grave  with  my  children  ? "  and  hiding  her  face  in  her  son's  bosom, 


150  STORIES  AND    TALES 

her  sobs  were  so  strong  and  wild  that  he  feared  her  heart  was 
breaking? 

"  Listen  to  me,  mother,  listen  to  me,"  he  said  in  tremulous  tones, 
"and  I  will  tell  you  what  will  comfort  you,  —  the  memory  of  what  a 
good  parent  you  have  been,  from  the  first  moment  I  nestled  in  your 
arms  until  this  dark  hour.  How  you  have  warned  and  guided  us, 
and  sacrificed  your  wishes  to  ours  !  You  have  been  a  true  mother 
to  me,  God  knows  ;  you  have  been  an  angel  watching  my  path,  my 
own,  own  mother  ; "  and  as  he  said  this,  he  knelt  and  bowed  his  head 
to  her  lap,  and  hid  his  face  there. 

She  spoke  not ;  she  even  shook  him  off  in  her  agony ;  the  waves 
were  rolling  over  her  soul,  and  her  life-star  was  gone. 

He  drew  her  gently  towards  him,  and  soothingly  pressed  her  hands 
in  his. 

"  Since  I  left  you,  mother,  I  have  had  a  dream,  —  a  strange  but 
sweet  dream.  I  have  not  thought  much  of  Heaven  before  ;  but  I 
am  sure  I  was  there  in  my  dreams.  We  were  all  there,  all  four,  — 
and  you  and  father  were  so  young  and  beautiful.  There  was  a  light 
around  you,  and  you  seemed  too  glorious  to  Lorenzo  and  me,  until  we 
heard  you  say,  '  My  children.1  O,  mother,  there  were  no  tears  in  that 
heaven,  —  no  death ! "  and  his  voice  faltered,  a  shudder  went  over 
his  frame,  and  he  was  silent. 

"  Death,  death  !  "  almost  screamed  Rosalba,  "  why  did  you  not  die 
in  your  cradle  ?  I  could  have  closed  your  eyes  softly,  and  crossed 
your  hands  upon  your  breast,  and  strewn  your  grave  with  flowers ; 
now,  now  —  " 

There  was  a  pause  of  passionate  sorrow.  Ferdinand  knelt  still  at 
his  mother's  feet,  and  gazed  into  her  face  with  a  look  of  pleading. 

"  Mother,  dear  mother,  for  mercy's  sake,  be  composed,  or  I  shall 
go  wild,  too;"  and  he  pressed  his  hands  to  his  head.  "Mother, 
you  forget  that  I  must  be  strengthened  for  this  great  trial,  and  our 
poor  Lorenzo,  too." 


FOR    THE    YOUNG.  151 


Rosalba  turned  on  him  such  a  gaze  of  mournful  admiration,  as  we 
give  the  meteor  darting  to  sudden  extinguishment.  Lorenzojs  name 
subdued  her  ;  it  was  not  a  moment  for  words,  but  turning  from  Fer- 
dinand she  knelt  before  a  rude  crucifix  inserted  in  the  wall,  offered 
a  silent  prayer,  and  kissing  him,  passed  to  the  cell  of  his  brother. 
As  she  entered,  Lorenzo  rushed  to  her  with  such  a  scream  of  joy  and 
fear  that  the  empty  vaults  sent  back  the  sound. 

"  You  have  come  to  save  me,  mother,"  he  cried.  "  I  knew  you 
would  not  let  your  poor  boy  die  ! " 

Rosalba  turned  aside  in  agony.     He  followed  her  beseechingly. 

"  Look  at  me,  mother.  I  am  your  own,  your  youngest  one.  Here," 
said  he,  throwing  back  the  glossy  hair  that  shaded  his  features,  "  here 
is  your  likeness.  My  father  loved  me  because  I  looked  like  you,  — 
you  would  not  have  me  die ! "  and  he  threw  his  arms  around  her 
neck  and  nestled  as  a  bird  beneath  the  parent's  wing. 

Rosalba  sat  upon  the  damp  floor  and  took  the  boy  to  her  heart  as 
in  days  of  infancy.  She  wiped  away  his  gushing  tears  and  uttered 
soft  tones  of  endearment. 

"  You  will  save  me  then,  my  mother  ?  "  he  asked,  wildly. 

"  I  can  save  one  of  you,"  she  whispered,  almost  inaudibly.  '  The 
sentence  is,  that  one  of  you  may  live  if  I  will  choose  him." 

Lorenzo  sprang  from  her  anus  and  threw  himself  at  her  feet. 

"  You  will  save  me,  me"  he  cried,  vehemently.  " I  am  too  young 
to  die.  Mother,  my  heart  will  break  with  terror  if  you  say  I  must 
die.  O,  mother,  I  think  of  it,  I  dream  of  it.  I  am  afraid ;  I  am 
crazy ;  save  me,  save  your  poor,  poor  Lorenzo,"  and  he  clung  to  her 
with  a  piercing  look  of  entreaty. 

The  agonized  mother  turned  upon  him  with  a  kind  of  fierceness 
and  almost  shouted  in  his  ear,  — 

"  You  say  that  Ferdinand  is  to  die  ?  /  will  it  not.  Thank  God 
it  rests  not  with,  me  ;  I  am  guiltless ! "  and  she  stamped  the  narrow 
cell  with  almost  maniac  footsteps. 


152  »  STORIES  AND    TALES 

"  I  said  it  not,  mother,"  replied  the  boy  mournfully.  Ferdinand 
must  live,  and  I  will  go.  It  is  fearful,  but  I  must  go,"  and  with  a 
frightened  look  he  swooned  away. 

Three  days  and  nights  Rosalba  passed  in  alternate  visits  to  her 
children.  She  ate  no  food  nor  slept.  The  keeper's  eyes  moistened 
as  she  passed  to  and  fro.  Sometimes,  in  the  horror  of  despair,  she 
threw  herself  down  in  the  dark  passage  and  beat  the  impassive  stones 
with  her  delicate  hands.  Sometimes  she  knelt,  and  gazed  upon  the 
crucifix,  as  if  asking  aid  from  Heaven.  Now,  low  unuttered  sounds 
escaped  her,  as  if  her  reason  had  fled.  She  shed  no  tears.  Suffer- 
ing had  gone  deeper  than  their  fount. 

On  the  fourth  day  an  eager  crowd  gathered  to  the  execution  of 
two  youths.  At  the  closing  moment,  when  there  was  a  hush  in  the 
multitude,  a  shriek  went  up  from  among  the  spectators  so  piercing, 
wild,  and  unearthly,  that  many  a  sleeper  started  that  night  in  his 
dreams,  as  he  remembered  it.  When  the  populace  dispersed,  a 
senseless  female  form  was  discovered  closely  enveloped  in  a  veil. 
The  pulse  of  life  had  ceased  to  beat  in  that  fair  and  gentle  bosom, 
on  which  was  discovered  the  miniature  likeness  of  two  beautiful 
boys  embracing,  and  a  braid  of  dark  hair  encircling  the  name  of 
Rosalba  De  Soria. 


GOOD    NIGHT. 

Good  night,  mamma  ;  good  night,  papa ; 

I  'm  going  now  to  sleep ; 
Your  little  boy  will  say  his  prayers, 

And  God  his  soul  will  keep. 


FOR   THE   YOUNG.  153 


THE    LOST    MAIL. 

A   TALE    OF   THE    FOREST. 

MY  cousin  Lewis  Walpole,  from  the  earliest  childhood,  was  re- 
markable for  finding  things. 

His  companions  thought  he  enjoyed  what  is  commonly  called 
good  luck,  but  a  closer  philosophy  might  say  he  was  particularly 
observing.  He  once  found  two  letters  in  a  morning  walk,  the  re- 
ward for  which  filled  his  pocket  with  spending-money  for  a  year  ; 
and  as  we  were  rambling  together  one  day,  he  brought  up  from  the 
mud  on  his  ratan  a  gold  ring.  It  was  a  plain  ring,  with  two  initials, 
and  though  no  immediate  reward  followed,  it  introduced  him  to  a 
friendship  which  was  like  golden  apples  for  the  rest  of  his  days. 

Once  I  stepped  on  a  bit  of  dirty  paper ;  Lewis  followed  me, 
picked  it  up  and  laid  it  in  his  little  snug  pocket-book.  Six  weeks 
after,  an  advertisement  appeared,  offering  three  hundred  dollars' 
reward  for  that  very  bit  of  paper,  which  was  the  half  of  a  note  worth 
as  many  thousands. 

It  seemed  to  me  that  pins  sprang  from  the  earth  for  Lewis,  for  he 
was  never  without  a  row  of  them  in  his  waistcoat. 

If  an  old  lady  was  in  want  of  one,  Lewis  was  always  ready,  and 
then  his  head  was  patted,  and  he  was  treated  to  tit-bits.  If  a  pretty 
girl's  shawl  was  to  be  fastened,  behold  Lewis'  pin  came  forth,  and 
then  such  a  beautiful  smile  beamed  upon  him  !  If  a  child  was  in 
danger  of  losing  her  bonnet,  Lewis'  offered  pin  was  seized,  and  he 
was  caressed  with  lips  and  eyes,  for  her  preservation  from  a  mater- 
nal chiding. 

Cousin  Lewis,  sometime  since,  removed  to  the  far  West,  and  I, 
his  senior  by  a  dozen  years  (though  he  was  a  stricken  bachelor), 
went  with  him  to  darn  his  stockings  and  keep  his  hearth  clean.  We 


154  STORIES  AND    TALES 

called  our  log-house  Sparrownest,  and  in  one  way  and  another  made 
it  as  cosey  as  heart  could  wish.  What  could  poor  cousin  Lewis  find 
now,  in  his  wide  fields  and  vast  forests  ?  Not  pins,  certainly  ;  but 
one  day,  twenty  miles  from  home,  he  did  find  in  the  wild  woods  a 
strange  thing,  —  a  pretty  Irish  girl  about  sixteen  years  old,  all  alone, 
wringing  her  hands  and  sobbing  as  if  her  heart  would  break. 

Cousin  Lewis  dismounted  (he  was  a  noble  horseman),  and  offered 
her  assistance.  The  poor  child  only  wept  the  more,  crying  out,  — 

"  And  isn't  it  alone  in  the  wide  world  that  I  am  ?  " 

It  was  an  awkward  business  ;  but  cousin  Lewis  knew  better  than 
anybody  how  to  do  a  kindness,  so  he  wiped  her  eyes,  soothed  her, 
and  bade  her  be  of  good  cheer ;  then  took  her  up  on  his  saddle,  and 
brought  her  home. 

"What  big  bundle  has 'cousin  Lewis  brought  home?  "  thought  I, 
as  he  rode  up  to  the  door  in  the  twilight ;  and  great  was  my  astonish- 
ment to  see  a  red-cheeked  girl  slip  down  from  the  saddle,  with  a 
shame-faced  look.  I  bestirred  myself  and  got  supper,  for  the  child 
was  cold  and  hungry.  When  her  appetite  was  appeased,  (she  ate  a 
whole  chicken,  poor  thing  !)  she  began  to  cry. 

"  What  can  I  do  for  you,  my  child  ?  "  said  I. 

"  And  isn't  it  of  my  father  I'm  thinkin'  ?  "  said  she,  sobbing  and 
wringing  her  hands.  "  There  were  twenty  of  us,  big  and  little,  in 
the  wagon,  and  him  in  the  front  one.  It  was  with  a  clever  old  lady 
I  was,  in  the  after  one,  we  to  take  the  charge  of  one  another,  ye 
mind.  And  when  the  'orses  was  stopped  for  wathering,  I  minded 
to  go  and  gather  some  flowers  I  had  never  seen  in  my  own  counthry. 
So  I  sated  myself  down  to  pull  some  flowers,  and  a  bit  weed  there- 
about looked  like  the  shamrock,  and  I  fell  a  thinkin';  a  kind  of 
the 'dream  came  upon  me,  and  I  was  at  play  with  Kathleen  and  the 
girls,  and  thin  we  were  for  throwin'  peat  at  Dermot,  and  Dermot 
made  as  if  to  kiss  me,  the  impudent — ,  and  I  slapped  him  on  the 
face,  and  thin  I  knew  no  thin'  more  until  I  started  up  and  found 


mm 

.    YZ^~~s?  •    <T'<          ''f£*"^Z=35!?S&&:' 


DORA.  — Page  155. 


FOR    THE    YOUNG.  155 


myself  alone.  The  wagons  were  gone,  the  owls  were  hootin',  and 
the  night  comin'  on.  Then  I  shouted,  and  cried,  and  raved,  and 
ran  till  my  feet  failed  me,  and  my  heart  was  jist  like  to  break  in 
two,  when  the  masther  (here  she  made  a  low  courtesy  to  cousin 
Lewis),  came  along  like  the  light  on  a  dark  night,  and  took  com- 
passion on  the  poor  girl ;  and  she  will  love  him  all  her  days  for  his 
goodness,  she  will." 

With  that,  cousin  Lewis  took  out  his  pocket-handkerchief,  and  I 
punched  the  fire. 

So  Dora  became  one  of  us,  and  she  sang  about  Sparrownest  like 
a  young  bird,  with  a  natural  sigh  now  and  then  for  her  father. 

Did  cousin  Lewis  find  anything  else  in  the  forest  ?  Listen.  As 
he  was  riding  on  horseback,  in  his  deliberate  way,  on  the  far  out- 
skirts of  his  fields,  he  saw  something  white  scattered  among  the 
green  herbage.  He  spurred  his  horse  toward  the  spot.  It  was 
strewed  with  letters,  which  were  dashed  with  mud  and  rain.  Cousin 
Lewis  alighted,  and  quietly  deposited  them  all  in  his  saddle-bags. 

Dora  and  I  had  made  a  blazing  fire,  for  the  night  was  chilly  ;  and 
while  I  was  knitting,  she  trod  about  with  a  light  step,  laying  the 
cloth  for  supper,  and  singing  an  Irish  air  about  "  Dermot,  my  dear." 
When  cousin  Lewis  came  in,  she  sprang  -towards  him  with  such  joy, 
and  hung  his  hat  on  the  peg,  and  put  his  heavy  saddle-bags  in  one 
corner,  and  brought  him  water  to  bathe  his  hands,  and  helped  to 
draw  off  his  great  boots.  He  looked  very  fondly  on  her.  You  would 
not  have  thought  he  was  so  much  older  than  she,  for  his  hair  was 
curling,  and  black  as  the  raven  ;  mine  has  been  gray  for  many  years. 

At  supper  cousin  Lewis  told  us  about  the  letters.  I  confess,  old 
as  I  am,  I  could  scarcely  keep  my  hands  from  the  saddle-bags,  and 
I  thought  Dora  would  have  torn  them  open. 

"  We  shall  have  a  rainy  day  to-morrow,"  said  cousin  Lewis,  in  his 
quiet  way,  "  and  will  want  amusement ;  beside,  our  Yankee  clock 
points  to  bedtime." 


156  STORIES  AND    TALES 

"  Masther,  clear,"  said  Dora,  imploringly,  "  the  letthers  will  not 
slape  a  wink  for  wanting  to  be  read." 

"  We  must  keep  them  locked  up,  my  love,  as  we  do  restless  chil- 
dren," said  cousin  Lewis,  and  I  think  I  saw  him  kiss  the  hand  that 
struggled  to  take  the  key  of  the  saddle-bags  away  from  him.  No 
wonder  he  felt  young,  for  he  was  very  straight  and  graceful. 

The  next  morning,  when  we  assembled  at  breakfast,  the  rain 
descended  in  that  determined  style  which  announces  a  regular  out- 
pouring for  the  day. 

Dora  and  I  glanced  at  the  saddle-bags  ;  cousin  Lewis  smiled. 

"Have  you  settled  it  with  your  conscience,"  said  he,  "whether 
those  letters  should  be  read  ?  There  has  evidently  been  a  mail 
robbery." 

"  You  would  n't  in  rason  be  after  sendin'  the  letthers  away,  poor 
things,"  said  Dora,  "  when  they  were  left  in  the  forests.  And  it 
wasn't  that  ye  did  to  me,  anyhow  !  " 

Cousin  Lewis  looked  down  and  sighed,  and  smiled.  I  could  not 
tell  whether  he  was  thinking  of  the  letters,  or  Dora ;  but  I  noticed, 
when  he  smiled,  how  white  and  even  his  teeth  were. 

After  some  discussion  we  decided  that  no  seal  was  to  be  broken 
where  the  superscription  was  legible,  but  that  it  was  right  and 
proper  that  we  should  constitute  ourselves  a  committee  to  decide 
which  of  them  were  in  a  state  to  return  to  the  post-office.  Cousin 
Lewis  was  appointed  reader.  While  he  gave  us  the  contents  of  the 
following,  Dora  amused  herself  by  treading  on  Carlo's  paw,  who 
looked  up  in  her  face  and  whimpered. 

The  date  was  erased. 

"DEAR  JUDGE:  You  will  be  surprised  to  learn  that    .     .     . 
has  taken  the  field  against  us.     What  will  European  cabinets  say 
when  such  addle-headed  fellows  form  a  part  of  our  government? 
B is  up  and  doing.     You  must  be  on  the  alert,  and  circumvent 


FOR   THE    YOUNG.  157 


these  movements,  if  possible.  The  secretaryship  may  yet  be  secured 
by  a  general  canvassing.  T.  and  J.  are  fit  tools.  Take  care  of  S., 
and  give  a  sop  to  old  Cerberus  on  the  island.  Keep  the  date  in 
mind,  as  —  " 

The  rest  of  the  writing  was  obliterated.  The  next  letter  made 
Dora  stop  playing  with  Carlo's  paw. 

"  PHILADELPHIA,  ETC. 

"  DEAR  RUSSELL  :  I  received  the  books  safely,  and  thank  you. 
After  looking  them  over,  I  had  an  odd  dream,  and  was  awakened 
with  my  own  excessive  laughter.  It  is  utterly  preposterous  that  a 
staid  lawyer,  half  a  century  old,  should  be  dreaming  such  dreams. 

"  I  dreamed  that  I  was  blowing  soap-bubbles  out  of  a  clay  pipe,  a 
thing  I  have  not  done  since  you  and  I  were  boys  at  Fishkill.  One 
after  another  they  floated  off,  poetically  enough ;  now  rising  grace- 
fully in  the  sunbeams,  and  now  exploding  softly  on  the  turf  at  my 
feet.  At  length,  one,  the  king  of  the  rest,  grew  and  grew  at  the  end 
of  my  pipe,  until  it  became  as  large  as  a  wash-basin*  It  fell,  and 
lay  rolling  about,  offering  beautiful  prismatic  hues  to  the  eye,  when, 
presently,  a  little  square-nosed  pig  came  grunting  towards  it.  Twice 
he  smelled  it,  and  tried  to  turn  it,  but  retreated  as  it  rolled  towards 
him.  Again  he  seemed  to  gather  up  his  courage,  and  thrusting  his 
square  snout  against  it,  it  exploded  with  a  noise  like  a  pistol.  Little 
Squarenose  ran  as  if  for  life  and  death,  and  I  awoke  in  a  positive 
perspiration  with  excess  of  laughter. 
"  Interpretation  of 

"  Your, 

"JAMES  COL ." 

Dora  shouted  with  glee  at  this  droll  description,  and  her  interest 
was  kept  awake  by  the  following,  written  evidently  by  a  relation  of  a 
certain  popular  character  :  — 


158  STORIES  AND    TALES 

"  MRS  SIPPI 
"  WEST  END  OF  A  MERRY  K. 

"  DEAR  VELLER  :  Wot  with  my  see  sickness  and  warious  causes, 
it's  bin  utterly  onpossible  for  me  to  rite  to  you,  tho'  it  warnt  for  want 
of  thinkin'  on  you,  as  the  thief  said  to  the  constable.  Wos  you  eve 
see  sick,  cozen  Veller  ?  If  you  wos,  you  would  say  that  you  felt  in 
the  sitivation  of  a  barrel  of  licker,  that's  rolled  over  and  over  agin  - 
its  vill. 

"A  most  mortifyin'  thing  happened  a  board  the  wessel.  You 
know,  my  lovin'  cozen,  the  jar  of  baked  beans  you  put  aboard  for 
my  private  eatin'.  Wot  should  the  stewhard  do,  but  set  it  atop  of 
three  basins  in  my  stated-room,  and  won  day  wen  the  ladies  wos 
eatin'  lunch,  there  came  an  awful  lurch  of  the  see,  the  wich  burstin' 
open  my  door,  driv  the  whole  concern  into  the  cabin.  The  beans 
w^as  mouldy  beyond  account,  and  smelt  werry  wilely,  as  the  pig  said 
wen  he  vent  to  his  neighbor's  pen.  The  beans  was  awfully  griddle 
about  the  floor  under  the  ladies'  feet,  who  scrambled  up  into  the 
cheers.  I  put  my  head  out  of  my  birth  to  explain,  and  was  taken 
with  an  awful  qualm  in  the  midst  of  a  pology. 

"  Give  my  love  to  Miss ,  and  tell  her  the  Merrycans  have 

been  quite  shy  of  my  letter  of  introduction  from  her.  I'm  jealous 
she  did  n't  move  in  sich  respectable  society  as  me,  or  else  she  made 
a  mistake,  as  the  dissector  said  wen  he  got  hold  of  a  live  body.  I 
ain't  seen  a  drunken  lady,  nor  a  young  woman  married  to  her  grand- 
father, nor  a  hypocritical  parson  since  I  left  the  wessel. 

"  I  will  write  agin  as  ever  I  get  to  Miss  Sore-Eye. 

"  Your  loven  cozen,  TIMOTHY." 

It  may  well  be  imagined  that  Sparrownest  rang  with  our  mirth, 
for  little  matters  move  one  in  the  country.  Dora  laughed  until  she 
cried  ;  but  her  mood  was  soon  changed  when  cousin  Lewis,  in  his 
pathetic  tones,  read  the  next  letter. 


FOR   THE   YOUNG.  159 


"  FATHER  :  I  take  my  pen  in  desperation,  not  in  hope  ;  and  yet, 
perhaps,  when  you  know  that  the  body  of  my  child  lies  beside  me 
without  my  having  the  means  .to  buy  him  a  shroud,  you  may  relent. 
Poor  Edward  is  stretched  on  his  hard  mattress  beside  the  boy,  and 
his  hollow  cough  rings  fearfully  through  the  empty  room.  O,  fa- 
ther, if  he  had  but  that  old  sofa  you  banished  to  the  garret  on  the 
night  of  my  birth-day  ball !  You  will  think'  me  crazy  to  say  so,  but 
you  are  a  murderer,  father.  My  boy  died  for  want  of  nourishment, 
and  you  are  murdering  Edward  too  !  the  best,  the  noblest  — . 
O,  heaven  !  to  think  of  the  soft  beds  in  your  vacant  rooms,  and 
the  gilt-edged  cups  from  which  you  drink  your  odorous  tea,  with  that 
white  sugar  sparkling  like  diamonds !  I  have  just  given  poor  Ed- 
ward his  nauseous  draft  in  a  tin  vessel.  I  have  not  had  time  to 
cleanse  it  since  my  baby  was  ill. 

"  My  baby,  how  tranquilly  he  rests  !  Would  that  Edward  and.  I 
might  lie  down  beside  him  ! 

"  Father,  will  God  treat  his  erring  children  as  you  do  ?  '  Like  as 
a  father  pitieth  his  children.' 

—  "  O,  Father  in  heaven,  art  thou  like  mine  ?  " 

"  A  change  has  come  upon  Edward,  father ;  he  is  dying 

dead." 

Dora  laid  her  head  upon  the  table  in  tears,  but  she  soon  wiped 
her  eyes  and  listened  with  feminine  interest  to  another  letter. 

"  NEW  YORK. 

"  DEAR  ISABEL  :  You  must  not  fail  to.be  here  on  the  2ist  of  next 
month  as  my  first  bridesmaid.  I  can  take  no  excuse.  My  dress  is 
perfect ;  papa  imported  it  for  me.  There  is  and  shall  be  no  copy  in 
the  city.  The  pearls,  too,  are  exquisitely  unique.  You  can  form 
some  judgment  of  what  will  be  necessary  for  your  own  dress  by 
mine.  Of  course  you  must  be  less  elegant  than  the  bride. 


l6o  STOK/ES  AND    TALES 

"  Frock,  with  lace  trimmings,  etc.       .         .         .  $150  oo 

"Veil 50  oo 

'*  Pocket  handkerchief  (the  divine  thing)  .         .  20  oo 

"  Embroidered  gloves        .....  3  oo 

"  Satin  boots 12  50 

"  Stockings 5  oo 

"  Embroidered  scarf.         .         .         .         .         .  10  oo 

"  Set  of  pearls 200  oo 

"  Bouquet  of  natural  flowers       .         .         .         .  5  oo 

"  Come,  dearest  Isabel,  and  witness  my  dress  and  my  felicity ! 

"  Your  own  ELEANOR. 

"  P.  S.  You  know  you  must  appear  with  me  on  Sunday.  Mam- 
ma has  bought  me  a  heaven  of  a  bonnet  with  feathers." 

• 

Dora  rolled  up  her  eyes.  "  And  is  n't  it  feathers  that 's  to  make 
that  bird  ?  "  said  she.  Upon  which  she  began  to  speculate  on  her 
own  wants,  if  she  should  be  married,  and  decided  that  ten  dollars 
would  be  an  ample  dower  for  her.  Cousin  Lewis,  appropriately 
enough,  though  accidentally,  hit  upon  a  letter  of  good  advice  to  a 
bride.  1  was  very  much  disconcerted,  however,  at  the  third  para- 
graph, to  see  Dora  begin  to  nod  ;  at  the  fourth,  her  hands  fell  in 
her  lap,  and  her  ball  of  thread  rolled  on  the  floor ;  at  the  fifth,  her 
head  sank  on  her  shoulder,  and  cousin  Lewis  had  to  support  her 
with  his  left  arm. 

"  Don't  disturb  the  poor  child,"  said  he,  kindly,  as  I  began  to 
shake  her. 

"  But  cousin  Lewis,"  said  I,  "  it  is  a  pity  she  should  lose  such 
excellent  advice,  particularly  if  she  should  marry  a  parson." 

"  You  know  nothing  about  these  matters,  Rachel,"  said  cousin 
Lewis,  sharply.  "  1  will  tell  her  all  the  advice  to  morrow." 


FOR   THE    YOUNG.  l6l 


So  his  left  arm  continued  to  keep  her  from  falling,  and  he  read 
on :  — 

"  MY  DEAR  MARY  :  You  ask  for  advice  on  the  new  scenes  of 
duty  which  you  have  entered.  I  thank  you  for  the  implied  com- 
pliment contained  in  such  a  request.  Having  watched  your  growth 
from  the  moment  that  you  first  blessed  the  eyes  of  your  fond  pa- 
rents to  this  time,  when,  with  conscientious  resolutions,  and  warm 
affections,  you  have  become  the  wife  of  a  clergyman,  it  is  with  no 
little  interest  that  I  answer  it. 

"  You  feel,  doubtless,  better  than  I  can  express,  how  necessary  is 
true  piety  to  the  happiness  of  one  whose  husband  is  devoted  to  the 
cause  of  Christ.  Beautiful  is  the  spectacle,  where  confiding  hearts' 
move  in  pious  sympathy,  pleased  with  earth,  yet  looking  towards 
heaven  ;  and  when  the  wave  of  sorrow  comes  (as  come  it  must), 
and  rushes  over  their  souls  together,  bending  but  a  moment  with 
the  shock,  and  then,  with  a  common  impulse,  resuming  their  upward 
view. 

"  Yet  I  would  warn  you,  in  the  enthusiasm  of  your  aims  at  reli- 
gious duty,  not  to  involve  yourself  in  your  husband's  sphere.  Many 
young  ladies,  when  wedded  to  clergymen,  have  made  themselves 
unhappy  by  extending  too  widely  the  circle  of  their  cares.  Ardent 
in  the  cause  of  the  Master  they  profess  to  follow,  they  imagine  that 
they  must  devote  their  time  and  powers  to  the  flock  over  which  their 
husband  presides.  By  degrees,  family  cares  press  on  and  crowd 
their  time,  and  they  lose  their  equanimity  of  temper  amid  conflict- 
ing duties. 

"  A  minister's  wife -should  show  by  her  deportment  that  she  is  one 
of  his  flock,  and  not  a  leader.  A  constant  and  respectful  attend- 
ance on  his  ministry,  and  a  deportment  which  marks  that  her 
thoughts  are 

'  For  God,  through  him,' 
II 


1 62  STOJRIES  AND    TALES 

will  secure  for  her  a  quiet  influence  over  the  minds  of  his  people. 
She  should  seem  not  to  be  first,  even  in  good  works,  but  skilfully 
and  delicately  promote  the  cause  of  truth  through  others. 

"  The  best  service  you  can  render  his  people  will  be  to  make  your 
husband's  home  happy  ;  then  will  he  go  forth  prepared  to  sympa- 
thize with  them,  and  his  free  spirit  will  range  over  his  wide  sphere 
of  duty  in  religious  joy.  Remember,  that  in  common  with  all  men, 

"  '  A  something  of  submission,  of  respect, 
Obedience,  kindness  personal,  he  loves. 
A  slighter  service  so  adorn'd  will  please 
Him  more,  than  wanting  this,  a  greater  would. 

Goethe? 

"  Be  not  cold  to  his  peculiar  taste ;  if  he  loves  books,  cultivate 
literature,  that  he  may  find  your  intellectual  improvement  keeping 
pace  in  a  measure  with  his  own.  If  music  attract  him,  forward, 
either  in  yourself,  or  those  around  you,  an  accomplishment  which 
may  soothe  his  weariness,  or  beguile  his  care  ;  and  while  you  faith- 
fully study  your  domestic  duties,  either  in  the  preservation  of  neat- 
ness and  order  in  your  household,  or  with  your  needle,  by  his  side, 
let  him  see  that  mind  is  still  '  lord  of  the  ascendant.' 

"  I  say  to  you,  what  I  would  say  to  all  young  wives,  cultivate  a 
gentle  temper.  You  have  a  sweet  disposition  :  thank  God  for  it,  as 
the  best  dower  for  married  life.  • 

"  Riches,  accomplishments,  intellect,  fade  all  away  before  the 
genuine  smile  of  good  nature.  But  do  not  trust  to  the  gift  of  a 
sweet  temper.  None  but  a  woman  can  know  the  wear  and  tear  of 
feeling  produced  by  the  minute  details  of  household  care.  Pray 
and  strive  for  gentleness,  and  '  the  soft  answer  which  turneth  away 
wrath.'  Be  willing  not  to  have  your  own  way.  The  contest  for 
power  is  always  a  losing  one  for  woman. 

" '  Obedience 
"  Is  her  best  duty.' 


FOR    THE    YOUNG.  163 


"  In  obtaining  power,  she  may  chance  to  lose  the  sway  of  stronger 
affection. 

"  Farewell,  dear  Mary.  May  the  God  who  has  blessed  you  thus 
far,  sanctify  and  accept  the  offering  of  the  talents  which  you  and 
yours  have  laid  before  him. 

"  Your  affectionate  aunt, 

"  CAROLINE." 

As  cousin  Lewis'  voice  ceased,  after  reading  this  certainly  excel- 
lent letter,  Dora  started  and  rubbed  her  eyes ;  it  was  not  many 
minutes,  however,  before  her  sympathies  were  excited  and  her 
fingers  beating  time  on  the  table  to  the  musical  jingle  of  the  follow- 
ing girlish  epistle :  — 

"  CAMBRIDGE,  MASS. 
"  I  ought  to  make  excuses  due, 

Dear  Julia,  for  not  writing  you, 

Since,  with  a  kindness  prompt  and  free, 

You  gave  your  charming  thoughts  to  me. 

But  I  abominate  excuses, 

And  rank  them  among  mere  abuses, 

As  they  come  marching  full  and  round 

To  tinkling  instruments  of  sound, 

Without  a  particle  of  feeling, 

Mere  drapery  for  the  heart's  concealing. 

Your  letter  was  delightful  to  me, 

And  made  a  pleasant  thrill  run  through  me, 

Like  that  we  feel  in  smelling  flowers, 

Or  when  we  listen  to  soft  showers 

That  fall  upon  a  sultry  day, 

And  chase  our  languid  thoughts  away. 
So  you  are  reading  Anacharsis  ! 

How  well  kept  up  that  learned  farce  is, 

Showing  us  sages,  states,  and  kings, 

Familiarly  as  common  things. 

Stationed  once  more  in  this  retreat, 

Where  leisure  and  excitement  meet ; 


164  STOK7ES  AND   TALES 

Where  studious  pleasures,  happy,  calm, 

Show  life  with  every  softer  charm. 

Nothing  disturbs  seclusion's  hour, 

Which  hovers  with  its  tranquil  power ; 

Save  transient  visitors,  who  seem 

Like  shooting-stars  with  brilliant  gleam, 

That  dart  from  out  a  distant  sphere, 

Delight  my  gaze  and  disappear. 

The  Boston  question,  What's  the  news  ? 

Is  only  answered  by  reviews, 

Or  weekly  papers,  letting  out 

The  bus'ness  that  the  world 's  about 

While  the  "  last  book  "  unfolds  its  page 

Of  interest  in  this  bookish  age. 

Charles  Lamb,  amid  some  random  start, 

Throws  out  sweet  whispers  to  my  heart ; 

While  Bulwer's  strong  yet  poison'd  bowl 

I  quaff  until  my  senses  roll. 

Not  to  his  hand  the  task  is  given 

To  lift  the  erring  soul  to  Heaven ; 

Tartarean  darkness  fills  the  soul 

That  yields  to  his  unsound  control. 

"  Some  graver  things  than  these  I  find 

Daily  to  occupy  my  mind. 

Theology,  with  critic  eye, 

Causes  my  lingering  doubts  to  fly  ; 

And  history,  with  reflecting  pen, 

Teaches  of  empires  and  of  men. 

"  Then  I  have  evening  reveries 

In  gazing  on  the  changing  skies  ; 

And  walks,  where,  as  I  look  abroad, 

My  soul  springs  forward  to  its  God. 

Nor  even  lonely  am  I  then, 

Though  straying  from  the  haunts  of  men  ; 

The  breeze  lifts  up  a  pleasant  voice, 

The  streams  in  whispers  say,  Rejoice  ! 

And  Nature's  tone,  wherever  given. 

Thrills  me  like  Nature's  God  in  heaven. 


FOR    THE    YOUNG.  165 


"  But  how  I've  written  off  my  time, 
Led  by  the  marching  step  of  rhyme  ! 
Forgive  this  light  and  careless  letter, 
Which  leaves  me  still  a  heavy  debtor 
To  you  for  yours,  with  its  completeness, 
Finished,  epistolary  neatness. 
And  now,  with  kind  remembrance  true, 
Receive,  dear  girl,  a  warm  adieu. 

EMILY." 

"And  isn't  it  nice,  that?"  said  Dora,  clapping  her  hands. 
"  Och,  but  it  dances  like  Dermot  to  old  O'Connor's  harp." 

And  now  the  impatient  girl's  fingers  were  again  thrust  into  the 
saddle-bags ;  but  as  she  drew  out  several  letters,  I  observed  that  the 
superscription  on  one  arrested  her  attention.  She  became  very 
pale,  broke  the  seal  impetuously,  and  glanced  at  the  signature.  A 
joyous  flush  came  over  her  cheeks  ;  she  danced  about,  waving  the 
letter  in  the  air,  caught  me  round  the  neck  and  kissed  me,  and 
threw  herself  into  cousin  Lewis'  arms  in  a  passion  of  tears.  When 
she  could  speak,  she  sobbed  out,  — 

"  And  isn't  it  father's  own  hand  writhing,  darling  ?  And  isn't  he 
at  Louisville,  weeping  for  his  own  Dora  ?  And  will  not  the  mas- 
ther  "  (here  she  disengaged  herself  from  cousin  Lewis,  and  stood 
before  him  with  her  accustomed  courtesy)  "  take  poor  Dora  to  the 
father  that's  her  own  ? " 

Cousin  Lewis  was  startled. 

"  I  had  hoped,"  said  he,  gravely,  "  that  is,  cousin  Rachel  and  I, 
had  hoped,  that  Sparrownest  would  have  been  your  home  for  life, 
Dora." 

Dora  looked  down,  embarrassed,  for  my  cousin  Lewis'  eyes  were 
fixed  upon  her,  and  they  were  very  black  and  sparkling,  though  he 
was  a  stricken  bachelor. 

I  withdrew  towards  the  window,  but  did  not  altogether  look  away. 


1 66  STORIES  AND    TALES 

I  saw  cousin  Lewis  take  Dora's  hand ;  I  saw  Dora  blush  all  up  to 
the  eyebrows ;  I  heard  Cousin  Lewis  speak  in  a  pleading  tone. 
One  would  not  have  thought  him  an  old  bachelor  by  his  voice.  I 
saw  little  Dora  tremble  ;  her  heart  seemed  starting  from  her  bosom, 
and  she  began  to  cry. 

"  I  will  not  distress  you,"  said  cousin  Lewis,  tenderly.  "  Tell  me 
all  your  feelings  as  you  are  wont  to  do.  Can  you  love  me,  and  be 
my  wedded  wife  ?  " 

Dora  looked  up  through  her  tears.     Her  eyes  shone  sweetly. 

"  I  will  love  the  masther  to  the  day  of  my  death,  and  after,"  said 
she  ;  "  but  thin  I  will  love  Dermot  better,  and  it  is  a  sin  is  that." 

Cousin  Lewis  dropped  her  hand  abruptly,  and  left  the  room.  He 
stayed  away  an  hour,  and  then  calmly  prepared  for  Dora's  journey. 
And  now  I  never  hear  him  speak  her  name. 


MR.    INKLIN: 

OR,   THE   MAN   OF    LEISURE   A   MAN   OF   MISCHIEF. 

MRS.  SHERIDAN,  a  happy  wife  and  mother,  having  concluded  the 
bustle  of  a  housekeeper's  morning,  ascended  to  her  bedroom  with 
the  agreeable  consciousness  of  a  neat  parlor  and  pantry,  and  com- 
menced the  important  business  of  cutting  out  a  piece  of  linen.  The 
smooth  surface  of  a  well-made  bed  was  appropriated  to  this  some- 
what intricate  process,  on  which,  humble  as  it  seems,  the  happiness 
of  one's  husband  greatly  depends.  There  is  scarcely  a  more  forlorn 
or  pitiable  object  in  the  universe,  than  a  man  who,  putting  on  a  new 
shirt,  perceives  some  radical  defect,  with  the  awful  consciousness 
that  nine,'  fifteen  or  twenty  more  are  cut  upon  the  same  pattern.  It 
so  happened  that  Mr.  Sheridan  had  detected,  almost  with  com- 
placency, the  incipient  decay  of  a  set  of  shirts  that  had  kept  his 


FOR  'THE  YOUNG.  167 


neck  in  a  vise  for  3  year  and  a  half,  and  with  many  injunctions  to 
his  wife  to  be  merciful,  had  purchased  a  piece  of  new  linen. 

Mrs.  Sheridan  began  her  work  with  a  light  heart,  and,  humming  a 
low  tune,  placed  the  various  pieces  on  different  parts  of  the  bed  in 
the  most  systematic  manner.  It  is  delightful  to  create;  and  the 
humble  evolutions  of  the  needle  and  scissors  have  healed  many  a 
wounded  heart ;  but  to  work  for  those  we  love  gives  an  added  charm 
to  this  seemingly  humble  employment '  Mrs.  Sheridan  went  trip- 
ping lightly  round  the  bed  to  the  growing  tumuli  of  gussets,  wrist- 
bands, etc.,  looking  back  to  her  life  of  placid  duty,  where  even  the 
clouds  that  had  sometimes  shaded  her  path,  were  tinged  with  the 
light  of  love  and  hope. 

She  had  not  advanced  far  in  the  progress  of  her  work,  when  a 
ring  at  the  door-bell  was  heard,  and  a  visitor  announced.  She 
smoothed  down  the  border  of  her  pretty  morning  cap,  and  with  a 
sorrowful  parting  glance  at  the  bed,  descended  to  the  parlor. 

The  visitor  was  Mr.  Inklin,  a  broken  merchant,  who  had  contrived 
to  save  just  enough  for  his  support,  without  energy  to  strike  into  new 
plans,  though  it  was  his  intention  to  enter  upon  some  occupation  at 
a  future  day.  Mr.  Inklin  had  no  gift  in  conversation ;  his  voice  was 
an  anodyne,  and  his  sleepy  eyes  seemed  wandering  to  the  ends  of 
the  earth.  Nothing  is  so  chilling  in  conversation  as  an  unanswering 
eye.  Besides  this  unfixed  look,  he  kept  up  perpetually  a  grunting 
kind  of  affirmative  which  destroyed  the  hope  that  a  difference  of 
opinion  might  stimulate  his  ideas.  He  dressed  well,  and  made  great 
use  of  his  watch-key.  Most  men  of  leisure  do. 

The  man  of  leisure  sat  down  composedly,  remarking  that  the  day 
was  fine. 

Mrs.  Sheridan  assented,  and  tried  to  recollect  if  she  had  stuck  a 
pin  as  a  guide  where  she  had  drawn  the  last  thread  in  the  linen. 

Mr.  Inklin  enlarged  upon  the  weather. 

"  It  had  been  warm,"  he  asserted,  "  perhaps  warmer  than  it  was 


1 68  STOK/ES  AN£>    TALES 

that  time  twelvemonth.  Warm  weather  agreed  with  him.  He 
thought  it  might  last  a  few  days  longer,  it  was  apt  to  in  June." 

Mrs.  Sheridan  looked  towards  him  as  he  spoke,  but  it  was  silently 
to  observe  that  his  shirt  collar  was  more  pointed  than  Mr.  Sheri- 
dan's. 

"  You  have  a  quiet  time,"  said  the  man  of  leisure,  "  with  the  chil- 
dren all  at  school." 

"  Yes,  sir,  very  quiet,"  said  Mrs.  Sheridan,  falling  into  a  reverie, 
as  she  thought  how  well  it  was  adapted  to  cutting  out  shirts. 

Mr.  Inklin  went  through  the  commonplace  manner  of  morning 
visitors,  with  many  a  resting-place  between,  until  he  remarked  that 
"  the  wind  was  rising." 

Mrs.  Sheridan  had  observed  it  too,  with  a  feeling  of  dismay  at  the 
prospect  of  the  commingling  of  all  her  shirt  elements. 

The  man  of  leisure  stayed  an  hour  (he  liked  a  morning  visit  one 
hour  long),  and  then  exclaiming,  as  the  hand  of  his  watch  turned  the 
expected  point,  "  bless  my  soul,  past  twelve  o'clock,"  made  his  bow 
and  departed. 

Mrs.  Sheridan  went  to  her  chamber.  The  wind  was  whirling  neck, 
sleeve,  and  flap  gussets  in  unceremonious  heaps  ;  and  collars,  wrist- 
bands, and  facings  were  dancing  in  eddies  on  the  floor.  In  her  agi- 
tation she  lost  the  important  boundary  pin,  and  an  error  occurred  in 
her  calculations.  The  shirts  were  made,  but  for  eighteen  months 
her  husband  never  took  one  from  his  drawer  but  with  a  nervous 
shudder,  or  a  suppressed  execration. 

THE  MAN  OF  LEISURE  IN  A  COUNTING-HOUSE. 

The  man  of  leisure  next  visited  the  counting-room  of  B —  &  Co., 
and  socially  seating  himself  on  a  barrel,  hoped  he  should  not  prevent 
the  head  clerk,  who  was  his  acquaintance,  from  writing. 

"  Not  at  all,"  said  the  polite  clerk,  putting  his  pen  behind  his  ear 
with  a  constrained  air. 


FOR    THE    YOUNG.  169 


"  Pray  don't  stop  on  my  account,"  said  Mr.  Inklin,  with  a  patron- 
izing smile. 

The  clerk  returned  to  his  accounts  and  letters,  while  the  man  of 
leisure  described  with  somewhat  more  animation  than  usual,  some 
herring  he  had  eaten  for  breakfast.  The  clerk  made  an  error  in  a 
figure,  which  cost  Messrs.  B  —  &  Co.  one  week  to  rectify,  and  one  of 
the  correspondents  of  the  firm  was  shortly  after  surprised  with  the 
announcement  by  letter,  that  an  hundred  bales  of  pickled  herring 
would  shortly  be  forwarded  to  order. 

THE  MAN  OF  LEISURE  AND  HIS  MINISTER. 

It  was  Saturday  night,  and  the  Rev.  Dr.  Ingram  sat  in  his  study 
with  his  sheets  before  him,  commentators  and  lexicons  around  him, 
and  a  well-mended  pen  in  hand,  when  the  man  of  leisure  was  an- 
nounced. He  entered  slowly  and  almost  diffidently,  so  that  the 
compression  of  the  Dr.'s  brow  produced  by  the  interruption  gave 
way  to  an  open  smile  of  encouragement.  I  have  mentioned  that 
Mr.  Inklin  was  taciturn,  and  not  only  that,  but  that  he  threw  an 
opiate  over  the  minds  of  his  associates.  There  were  long  pauses  in 
that  long  hour,  and  the  good  words  of  the  clergyman  fell  on  barren 
ground.  At  length  Mr.  Inklin  arose,  saying,  "  I  fear  I  have  broken 
the  thread  of  your  argument,  sir." 

And  broken  it  was.  Dr.  Ingram  retouched  the  nib  of  his  pen, 
listlessly  turned  the  pages  of  Clark,  Rosenmueller,  Grotius,  etc., 
rubbed  his  forehead,  took  two  or  three  turns  across  the  room,  and 
threw  himself  on  a  seat  in  despair.  The  impetus  was  gone,  the 
argument  was  frittered  away ;  he  stole  off  to  bed,  and  dreamed  that 
a  thirty-two  pounder  was  resting  on  his  chest,  with  the  man  of  leisure 
surmounting  it. 

THE  MAN  OF  LEISURE  AND  A  PRETTY  GIRL. 
The  man  of  leisure  called  on  Monday  on  Miss  Emma  Roberts, 
—  a  pretty,  blooming  girl  of  seventeen.     Emma  was  clear-starching. 


1 70  STOKfES  AND    TALES 

Talk  about  the  trials  of  men !  What  have  they  to  annoy  them  in 
comparison  to  the  mysteries  of  clear-starching  ?  Alas,  how  seldom 
clear !  Emma  was  going  on  in  the  full  tide  of  success,  indulging  in 
the  buoyant  thoughts  of  her  age ;  there  was  a  soft  light  about  her 
eye,  as  she  drew  out  the  edge  of  a  fichu,  or  clapped  it  with  her  small 
hands,  as  if  they  felt  the  impulse  of  young  hopes. 

"  I  am  sure  Harry  Bertram  looked  at  this  collar  last  Sunday ;  I 
wonder  if  he  liked  it,"  thought  she,  and  a  gentle  sigh  rustled  the 
folds  of  the  morning-robe  on  her  bosom.  Just  then  the  door-bell 
sounded,  and  the  man  of  leisure  walked  into  the  sitting-room,  where 
Emma,  with  a  nice  establishment  of  smoothing-irons,  etc.,  had  en- 
sconced herself  for  the  morning. 

"  You  won't  mind  a  friend's  looking  in  upon  you,"  said  Mr.  Inklin, 
with  an  at-home  air. 

Emma  blushed,  loosened  the  strings  of  her  apron,  gave  a  glance 
at  her  starched  fingers,  and  saying,  — 

"  Take  a  seat,  sir,  suspended  her  work  with  the  grace  of  natural 
politeness.  In  the  mean  while,  the  starch  grew  cold,  and  the  irons 
were  overheated. 

Emma  was  not  loquacious,  and  the  dead  pauses  were  neither  few 
nor  far  between.  Emma,  rendered  desperate,  renewed  her  opera- 
tions, but  with  diminished  ardor;  her  clapping  was  feeble  as  the 
applause  to  an  unpopular  orator,  she  burnt  her  fingers,  her  face  be- 
came flushed,  and  by  the  time  the  man  of  leisure  had  sat  out  his 
hour,  a  gray  hue  had  settled  over  her  muslins,  and  an  indelible 
smutch  disfigured  Harry  Bertram's  collar. 

Mr.  Inklin  soon  called  again,  and  met  Harry  Bertram.  It  was  no 
influence  of  coquetry  ;  but  Emma  rallied  her  powers  and  talked  more 
to  Mr.  Inklin  than  to  Harry,  a  modest  youth,  thrown  somewhat  into 
the  shade  by  the  veteran  visitor,  who  outstayed  him.  Harry,  who 
was  not  a  man  of  leisure,  could  not  call  for  several  days ;  when  he 
did,  Mr.  Inklin  had  "  dropped  in  "  before  him,  and  was  twisting  his 


FOR   THE    YOUNG.  IJl 


watch-key  with  his  cold,  wandering  eyes  and  everlasting  affirma- 
tives. 

Emma  sewed  industriously,  and  her  dark  lashes  concealed  her 
eyes.  Her  cheeks  were  beautifully  flushed,  but  for  whom  ? 

Mr.  Inklin  toyed  with  her  work-box,  without  seeming  to  know  that 
he  was  touching  what  Harry  thought  a  shrine. 

Harry  looked  a  little  fierce,  and  bade  good-night  abruptly. 

Emma  raised  her  soft  eyes  with  a  look  that  ought  to  have  detained 
a  reasonable  man  ;  but  he  was  prepossessed,  and  the  kind  glance  was 
lost.  Emma  wished  Mr.  Inklin  at  the  bottom  of  the  sea ;  but  there 
he  sat,  looking  privileged,  because  he  was  a  man  of  leisure. 

The  fastening  of  the  windows  reminded  him  that  it  was  time  to 
go,  for  he  did  not  limit  his  evening  calls  to  an  hour.  Emma  went 
to  her  bedroom.  She  was  just  ready  to  cry ;  but  a  glance  at  her 
mirror  showed  such  bright  cheeks  that  it  stopped  the  tears,  and  she 
fell  into  a  passion.  She  tied  her  nightcap  into  a  hard  knot,  and 
broke  the  string  in  a  pet. 

"  Harry  Bertram  is  a  fool !  "  said  she,  "to  let  that  stick  of  a  man 
keep  him  from  me.  I  wish  I  could  change  places  with  him  "  ;  and 
sitting  down  on  a  low  seat,  she  trotted  her  foot  and  heaved  some 
deep  sighs. 

The  man  of  leisure  "just  called  in  "  twice  a  week  for  three  months. 
Report  was  busy.  Harry's  pride  was  roused.  He  offered  himself 
to  another  pretty  girl,  and  was  accepted. 

Emma's  bright  cheek  faded,  her  step  grew  slow,  and  her  voice  was 
no  longer  heard  in  its  gay  carol  from  stair  to  stair.  She  was  never 
talkative,  but  now  she  was  sad.  Mr.  Inklin  continued  to  "  drop  in  " ; 
his  heart  was  a  little  love-touched,  but  then  there  was  "  time  enough." 
One  evening  he  came  with  a  bit  of  news. 

"  I  have  brought  you  a  bit  of  Harry  Bertram's  wedding-cake," 
said  he  to  Emma. 

Emma  turned  pale,  then  red,  and  burst  into  tears. 


172  STORIES  AND    TALES 

The  man  of  leisure  was  concerned. 

Emma  looked  very  prettily  as  she  struggled  with  her  feelings, 
while  the  tears  dried  away ;  and  he  offered  her  his  heart  and  hand. 

"  I  would  sooner  lie  down  in  my  grave  than  marry  you  ! "  said  the 
gentle  Emma,  in  a  voice  so  loud  that  Mr.  Inklin  started  ;  and  rush- 
ing to  her  own  apartment,  the  china  rang  in  the  closet  as  she  slammed 
the  door.  Mr.  Inklin  was  astonished.  Poor  Emma  covered  up  her 
heart,  and  smiled  again ;  but  she  never  married,  nor  ever  destroyed  a . 
little  flower  that  Harry  Bertram  gave  her  when  it  was  right  for  her  to 
love  and  hope. 

The  man  of  leisure  bore  her  refusal  with  philosophy,  and  continued 
to  "  drop  in." 

THE  MAN  OF  LEISURE  AND  THE  PALE  BOY. 

"  You'll  please  not  to  forget  to  ask  the  place  for  me,  sir,"  said  a 
pale,  blue-eyed  boy,  as  he  brushed  the  coat  of  the  man  of  leisure 
at  his  lodgings. 

"  Certainly  not,"  said  Mr.  Inklin.  "  I  shall  be  going  that  way  in  a 
day  or  two." 

"  Did  you  ask  for  the  place  for  me,  yesterday  ? "  said  the  pale  boy, 
on  the  following  day,  with  a  quivering  lip,  as  he  performed  the  same 
office. 

"  No,"  was  the  answer.     "  I  was  busy ;  but  I  will  to-day." 

"  God  help  my  poor  mother !  "  murmured  the  boy,  and  gazed  list- 
lessly on  the  cent  Mr.  Inklin  laid  in  his  hand. 

The  boy  went  home.  He  ran  to  the  hungry  children  with  the  loaf 
of  bread  he  had  earned  by  brushing  the  gentlemen's  coats  at  the 
hotel. 

They  shouted  with  joy,  and  his  mother  held -out  her  emaciated 
hand  for  a  portion,  while  a  sickly  smile  flitted  across  her  face. 

"  Mother,  dear,"  said  the  boy ;  "  Mr.  Inklin  thinks  he  can  get  me 
the  place,  and  I  shall  have  three  meals  a  day,  —  only  think,  mother, 


FOR   THE    YOUNG.  173 


three  meals  ! — and  it  won't  take  me  three  minutes  to  run  home  and 
share  it  with  you." 

The  morning  came,  and  the  pale  boy's  voice  trembled  with  eager- 
ness as  he  asked  Mr.  Inklin  if  he  had  applied  for  the  place. 

"  Not  yet,"  said  the  man  of  leisure  ;  "  but  there  is  time  enough." 

The  cent  that  morning  was  wet  with  tears.  Another  morning 
arrived. 

"  It  is  very  thoughtless  in  the  boy  to  be  so  late,"  said  Mr.  Inklin. 
"  Not  a  soul  here  to  brush  my  coat." 

The  child  came  at  length,  his  face  swollen  with  weeping. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  disappoint  you,"  said  the  man  of  leisure,  "  but  the 
place  in  Mr.  C 's  store  was  taken  up  yesterday." 

The  boy  stopped  brushing  and  burst  afresh  into  tears. 

"  I  don't  care  now,"  said  he,  sobbing ;  "  we  may  as  well  starve 
Mother  is  dead." 

The  man  of  leisure  was  shocked,  and  he  gave  the  pale  boy  a 
dollar. 

THE  MAN  OF  LEISURE  ON  A  DEATH-BED. 

Mr.  Inklin  was  taken  ill.-  He  had  said  often  that  he  thought  re- 
ligion might  be  a  good  thing  and  he  meant  to  look  into  it.  An 
anxious  friend  brought  a  clergyman  to  him.  He  spoke  tenderly  but 
seriously  to  the  sufferer,  of  eternal  truths. 

"  Call  to-morrow,"  said  the  man  of  leisure,  "  and  we  will  talk  about 
these  matters." 

That  night  the  man  of  leisure  died> 


FAIRY -LAND 


AND    OTHER   TALES. 


BY 


MRS.    CAROLINE    H.    JERVEY. 


FAIRY-LAND; 

OR, 

JESSIE   AND    HER    KITTEN. 


GIVE  me  your  whole  attention.  Open  those  large,  blue  eyes, — 
not  too  wide,  for  they  frighten  me,  —  and  who  ever  heard  of  violets 
frightening  anybody  ?  Let  me  see  those  bright  lips  parted  in  expec- 
tation, and  those  hands  clasped,  as  if  waiting  for  my  words,  and 
listen  to  me. 

This  is  a  regular  fairy  story,  —  none  of  your  true  and  true  stories, 
but  something  as  fanciful  as  a  bird  in  its  flight,  or  a  comet  in  its 
course,  or  anything  zigzag  and  unreal  in  the  world. 

Said  little  Jessie  Harding,  one  day  to  her  mother,  "  Mamma,  may 
I  take  my  kitten  and  go  into  the  woods  ? " 

"  Yes,  my  love ;  but  come  back  before  twelve  to  help  me  tie  up 
my  creepers  on  the  arbors,  and  before  your  papa  will  miss  his  little 
Jessie." 

"Yes,  mamma,"  said  Jessie  ;  "  I  am  only  going  to  jteach  my  mock- 
ing-bird a  new  song,  and  to  wash  my  kitten,  and  to  gather  some  wild 
flowers,  and  to  —  " 

"Very  well,  dear,"  said  the  mother;  "go." 

And  Jessie  went  with  her  kitty  to  the  deep,  still,  dark,  green 
12  177 


178  FAIRY-LAND 


woods.  Did  she  ever  come  back  again  ?  The  kitty  did.  If  you 
shut  your  blue  eyes  a  minute  you  can  see  her  in  imagination,  as  she 
runs  with  her  kitten  in  her  arms  to  the  fresh,  cool  stream. 

She  looks  almost  like  a  fairy,  for  her  step  is  so  l:ght  that  she 
scarce  touches  the  ground.  Her  white  dress  is  carefully  tucked  up 
at  the  sides,  for  a  neat  little  girl  she  is,  and  her  voice  rings  out  a 
childish  song  of  happiness  and  glee.  The  kitty  did  not  like  the 
washing  much  ;  but  Jessie  was  very  determined,  and  scolded  or 
coaxed  her  until  it  was  all  over. 

"  My  dear  Arabella  Victoria  Marie  Antoinette  (that  was  the  kit- 
ten's name),  you  are  behaving  in  a  very  shameful  manner,"  she  said  ; 
"it  is  some  weeks  since  you  have  been  washed,  and  I  am  washed 
every  day ;  you  must  not  scratch  me,  you'  naughty  thing,  or  I  must 
duck  you,  and  then  you  may  be  drowned !  No,  you  shall  not  be 
drowned  ;  there,  —  you  are  almost  clean  ;  just  let  me  wash  this  disa- 
greeable black  spot  from  your  head,  and  all  will  be  over." 

The  kitty  came  out  of  the  stream  looking  very  miserable,  and  as 
if  life  were  a  thing  not  at  all  to  be  desired ;  but  Jessie  rubbed  her 
white  and  black  sides  quite  dry,  and  wrapped  her  in  a  shawl,  and 
the  kitten  slept  as  quietly  as  a  tired  child. 

Jessie  then  took  off  her  shoes  and  stockings,  and  sitting  on  the 
bank,  dipped  her  white  and  dimpled  feet  into  the  glad  waters  and 
laughed  because  she  had  achieved  so  great  a  thing  as  kitty's 
bath. 

"My!"  said  she,  clapping  her  hands,  "didn't  she  kick,  and 
didn't  she  struggle,  and  didn't  I  wash  her  infamous  eyes  and  her 
disgraceful  ears !  Come  feet,  the  water  is  very  pleasant,  no  doubt, 
but  home  you  must  go." 

"But  home  you  must  not  go"  said  a  voice  near  her,  about  as  loud 
as  the  sound  of  a  guitar.  "You  must  fly  over  the  three  perils,  for 
our  queen  has  fallen  in  love  with  you,  and  has  a  seat  prepared  for 
you  on  her  ivory  throne,  and  has  sent  me  to  bring  you  to  her !  " 


AND   OTHER    TALES.  179 


Jessie  looked  up  and  saw  peering  into  her  face  —  a  fair}' !  Her 
heart  beat  violently  when  she  beheld  the  impudent  little  creature 
seated  in  a  bell -shaped  flower,  rocking  away  like  a  child  in  a  swing, 
and  uttering  these  bold  words.  Her  heart  beat  quick,  but  she  gazed 
steadfastly  at  the  fairy  queen's  messenger,  until  the  rocking  motion 
made  her  quite  sea-sick. 

He  was  a  gay-looking  little  fellow,  with  a  rose-leaf  twisted  into  a 
cocked  hat,  and  a  jacket  of  rose-leaves  buttoned  with  dew  drops. 
He  had  a  reckless,  determined  air  about  him  -which  made  Jessie 
tremble  even  while  she  gazed.  However,  she  returned  his  glance 
boldly,  and  quietly  wiping  her  feet  in  her  apron,  she  put  on  her  shoes 
and  stockings  and  took  up  her  kitty  to  go. 

"  Put  down  the  kitten,"  said  the  fairy. 

"  I  would  like  to  oblige  you,"  said  Jessie,  "  but  I  must  be  at  home 
to  give  papa  his  lunch,  and  I  have  remained  here  too  long  already." 

"  So  you  won't  go  when  our  queen  invites  you  ? "  replied  the  fairy. 
"  You  had  better  come,  for  she  has  ordered  a  bed  of  humming-bird's 
down  for  your  ladyship,  and  a  cup  of  coffee  made  from  ground 
pearls.  If  you  will  not  come  of  your  own  accord,  I  must  bring  you 
by  force." 

Jessie  was  frightened  now,  and  clasping  her  kitten  more  closely 
in  her  arms,  she  prepared  to  run  home ;  her  home  so  quiet  and  in- 
viting, where  her  parents  were  listening  for  her  welcome  step,  and 
watching  for  her  beaming  smile. 

As  the  fairy  perceived  her  intention,  he  turned  a  summerset  over 
the  branch  and  stood  directly  in  her  path. 

"  Stir  not  a  step  at  your  peril,"  said  he,  sternly ;  and  Jessie's  feet 
refused  to  move  at  her  will.  He  looked  with  his  bold,  bright  eyes 
at  the  kitten,  and  Arabella  Victoria  Marie  Antoinette  dropped  from 
her  sheltering  arms  and  sped  onwards  with  trot,  canter  and  gallop 
towards  that  home  where  Jessie's  parents  were  listening  for  her 
welcome  step,  and  watching  for  her  beaming  smile. 


180  FAIRY-LAND 


Jessie  tried  to  follow,  but  the  fairy's  spell  was  over  her,  and  she 
could  not  move  a  limb  nor  speak.  He  cruelly  produced  a  gold 
chain  which  clanked  as  he  wound  it  about  her  white  and  delicate 
arms,  and  binding  her  wrists  so  tightly  together  that  it  hurt  her 
tender  flesh,  he  drew  her  onward  and  onward  to  the  habitation  of 
the  queen  of  the  fairies. 

Whether  it  was  in  earth,  or  sea,  or  air,  Jessie  knew  not ;  but  she 
followed  her  guide  blindly,  with  her  white  eyelids,  which  he  had 
breathed  upon,  closed  upon  her  once  smiling  eyes.  There  were  two 
words  in  her  heart  which  she  tried  in  .vain  to  utter ;  they  were 
papa  and  mamma  ;  and  she  thought  of  their  intense  sorrow  at  seeing 
the  kitten  return  alone  ;  their  desperate  search  through  the  woods ; 
their  useless  search  through  the  world,  and  their  agonizing  imagin- 
ing that  she  might  be  sleeping  in  death  beneath  the  deep  waters  of 
the  leaping  stream. 

But  this  mattered  not,  nor  stopped  her  in  her  onward  course. 
She  knew  the  fairy's  chain  galled  and  tore  her  soft  arms,  but  she  did 
not  care  for  that;  she  only  cared  for  her  home,  so  quiet  and  in- 
viting, where  her  parents  were  listening  for  her  welcome  step,  and 
watching  for  her  beaming  smile. 

Sometimes  she  felt  that  the  air  was  hot,  sometimes,  cold.  Some- 
times she  knew  that  it  was  dark,  and  again  a  light  appeared  to  beam 
around ;  but  she  feared  no  changes  save  the  sad  change  in  her  poor 
pafents'  hearts. 

Suddenly  the  bold  fairy  stopped,  and,  coming  near  her,  breathed 
on  her  shoulders.  Two  wings  instantly  sprung  from  them,  and,  still 
guided  by  the  chain,  she  and  her  companion  soared  aloft  and  on- 
ward, and  then  alighted  at  a  brass  gate,  double-locked.  As  the  fairy 
knocked  three  times,  Jessie's  eyes  opened,  and  she  looked  around 
her.  The  immense  brazen  gates  creaked  on  their  ponderous  hinges, 
and  groaned  like  sick  giants.  They  seemed  a  boundary  to  an  inner 
and  an  outer  world,  and  as  she  entered  and  they  closed  upon  her, 
Jessie  felt  as  one  would  who  enters  alive  into  a  grave. 


AND   OTHER    TALES.  l8l 

On  an  ivory  throne  sat  the  fairy  queen,  as  beautiful  as  the  day. 
Her  sweet  breath  perfumed  the  air  like  a  thousand  violets,  and  her 
haughty  and  determined  bearing  was  an  embodiment  of  majesty. 
She  smiled  as  she  beheld  Jessie ;  but  the  smile,  so  much  like  heat 
lightning  over  the  heaven  of  her  face,  was  exchanged  for  an  expres- 
sion of  anger  too  terrible  to  be  borne. 

"  Slave  !  "  said  she,  glancing  sternly  at  the  fairy  who  had  so  cru- 
elly obeyed  her  mandate,  "  is  this  the  way  to  execute  my  commands  ? 
Did  I  order  you  to  drag  this  mortal,  whose  presence  I  so  coveted, 
into  my  court  like  a  felon  ?  Fie ! "  continued  she,  with  increasing 
anger,  stamping  her  tiny  foot,  "you  so-called  protector  of  injured 
innocence,  you  mirror  of  chivalry,  begone  !  What,  ho,  guards !  con- 
fine that  fellow  for  life  in  the  east  beehive  prison  ! " 

Jessie  pleaded  for  her  late  companion,  but  in  vain ;  and  she  felt 
that  the  little  queen's  mandate  was  as  unalterable  as  the  laws  of  the 
Medes  and  Persians. 

Oh,  the  dreary,  dreary  days  in  the  golden  jail  of  fairy-land  !  How 
leaden  were  the  wings  upon  which  they  slowly  sped !  And  yet  the 
queen  did  everything  to  chase  away  the  deep  and  settled  gloom 
which  shaded  the  face  of  the  little  maiden.  She  gathered  gorgeous 
jewels,  which  grew  in  clusters  like  flowers,  for  the  new  favorite  ;  she 
culled  flowers  more  exquisite  than  tongue  can  tell,  and  wove  them 
into  chaplets  for  her  hair.  Balls  were  given  in  her  honor,  where 
everything  bright  and  beautiful  tempted  her  to  return  once  more  to 
her  gay  mood..  But  alas !  her  young  head  drooped,  and,  spite  of 
love,  devotion  and  pleasure,  her  home-sick  heart  sighed  for  the  sim- 
•ple  pleasures  of  her  country  life.  Night  after  night  the  stranger 
devised  some  plan  of  escape  from  those  enchanted  regions,  but  the 
morning's  dawn  told  her  how  useless  they  were.  Besides  the  brazen 
gate  which  guarded  fairy-land,  the  three  perils  arose  to  her  imagina- 
tion to  shut  out  heaven  from  her  view,  and  she  knew  that  if  she 
attempted  to  escape,  death  would  be  the  .penalty. 


1 82  FAIRY-LAND 


One  day  the  fairy  queen,  blushing  like  a  rich  rosebud,  called  her 
into  her  presence  and  said  these  words :  — 

"  Jessie,  I  am  going  to  be  married  to  the  most  powerful  and  no- 
blest of  fairies.  Hitherto,  I  have  found  no  one  worthy  of  my  heart; 
but  now,"  added  the  exquisite  creature,  hiding  her  face  in  a  sprig  of 
Indian  creeper,  "I  have  found  the  idol  of  my  dream,  and  I  am  go- 
ing tp  link  my  fate  with  his.  We  are  to  meet  in  my  enchanted 
castle,  some  leagues  distant,  and,  as  no  mortal  has  ever  been  per- 
mitted to  witness  such  a  ceremony  as  the  nuptials  of  a  fairy,  I  must 
leave  you  here  almost  alone.  Only  two  guards  will  remain ;  also, 
the  prisoner  in  the  beehive.  He  endures  tortures  every  day,  accord- 
ing to  my  commands ;  and  remember,  when  I  am  roused,  if  my  wrath 
is  so  terrible  to  my  own  kind,  it  is  worse  than  terrible  to  a  mortal 
who  offends  me.  I  love  you,  Jessie,  and  would  keep  you  with  me 
always.  After  a  time  your  deep  grief  will  subside  into  contentment, 
your  contentment  into  happiness,  and  you  will  become  like  one  of 
us.  Beware,  I  say  again,  of  attempting  to  escape.  It  is  useless, 
utterly  useless  ;  for  beside  the  brazen  gate,  which  can  only  open  to 
my  fairy  lock-keeper,  yonder  yawns  the  sea  of  fire  which  encircles 
this  isle  ;  next  to  that,  the  mountain  of  ice  ;  beyond  that,  the  garden 
of  fruit,  guarded  by  monster  giants,  whose  frowns  alone  create  insen- 
sibility. When  I  return  home  with  my  heart's  delight,  my  chosen 
love,  I  shall  study  your  happiness  more  than  ever,  and  I  shall  teach 
him  to  love  my  Jessie,  too." 

"  Oh,  queen  !  "  said  Jessie,  passionately,  and  falling  at  the  fairy's 
feet ;  "  I  thank  you  for  all  your  kindness,  but  I  am  not  happy  here, 
and  I  never  can  be  happy ;  night  after  night  I  weep  whole  rivers  of* 
tears  ;  night  after  night  I  pray  that  your  hard  heart  may  be  softened 
and  that  you  will  allow  me  to  return  to  my  own  home.  Oh,  if  you 
would  only  let  me  go  back,  I  would  thank  you  so  much,  and  I  would 
tell  them  how  good  and  kind  you  were,  and  how  so  great  a  queen, 
made  herself  more  noble  still  by  such  a  kind  action." 


AND   OTHER    TALES.  183 

"  Silence,"  answered  the  fairy,  sternly,  uttering  the  first  harsh 
words  that  she  had  ever  done  to  Jessie";  "  a  whole  lifetime  of 
prayers  and  tears  is  of  no  avail.  Here  you  are,  and  here  you  must 
remain,  for  my  commands  are  not  to  be  disputed  ;  and  as  a  warning, 
I  will  tell  you  the  fate  of  the  only  mortal  beside  yourself,  who  has 
ever  been  within  these  gates.  I  loved,  as  I  do  you,  a  bright,  brave, 
frank  boy,  some  summers  older  than  you  are,  and  I  had  him  brought 
hither.  As  he  entered  my  dominions,  his  sweet  smiles  faded,  and 
the  demon  of  discontent  disfigured  his  lovely  face.  I  warned  him, 
but  my  kindness  was  not  appreciated.  My  love  changed  to  hate, 
and  he  is  chained  in  the  garden  of  fruit,  guarded  by  my  monster 
giants.  Beware  of  the  like  fate  ! " 

Jessie  could  only  weep  at  this  terrible  tale,  and  when  the  queen 
motioned  her  to  kneel  upon  the  first  step  of  her  throne  that  she 
might  kiss  her  brow,  she  did  so  ;  but  she  neither  felt  nor  cared  how 
great  an  honor  it  was  to  be  kissed  by  a  fairy  queen. 

Then  the  gorgeous  train  departed,  and  Jessie  was  left  alone  with 
the  two  guards  and  the  prisoner  in  the  bee-hive.  She  had  heard 
many  secrets  since  her  sojourn  in  fairy-land.  She  had  seen  flowers 
growing ;  she  .had  learned  how  to  put  seed  into  the  ground  which 
in  one  day  would  spring  into  a  plant  and  bear  glorious  blossoms  j 
she  knew  in  what  plants  the  fiercest  poisons  were  centred  ;  and  the 
different  power  of  poisons  were  known  to  her  also,  from  those  which 
would  create  insensibility,  to  those  which  would  cause  instant 
death. 

When  the  bridal  train  went,  she  remembered  these  things  and  her 
little  brain  was  perplexed  in  finding  out  how  to  turn  them  to  advan  • 
tage.  She  knew  that  a  mortal  could  never  cause  the  death  of  a 
fairy,  nor  did  her  tender  heart  desire  such  an  evil ;  but  she  hoped  to 
be  able  to  create  insensibility,  and  she  hastened  to  gather  the  flowers 
of  a  certain  kind,  and  to  distil  them  for  her  purpose.  This  she  was 
only  enabled  to  do  at  night,  when  the  guards  were  resting  from  their 


1 84  FAIRY-LAND 


labors  of  the  day,  and  when  they  thought  that  she  was  secure  in 
sleep  herself. 

At  last,  in  these  stolen  moments  of  trembling  anxiety,  she  com- 
pleted her  work,  and  when  it  was  over,  prepared  to  put  her  schemes 
into  execution.  What  was  her  work  to  be  ?  Let  me  tell  you. 

Jessie  took  the  precious  vial  which  contained  the  liquid,  and  in 
the  deep  silence  of  night,  proceeded  to  the  sleeping  bower  of  the 
drowsy  guards.  Her  light  tread  did  not  awaken  them.  You  might 
have  seen  her  eyes  glisten  like  diamonds,  as  she  carefully,  but  with 
trembling  hands,  poured  a  drop  of  the  enchanted  liquid  upon  each 
eyelid  of  the  sleepers.  You  might  have  seen  her  placid  smile  of 
content,  as  she  heard  the  deep-drawn  sigh  of  each  fairy,  which 
assured  her  by  the  knowledge  she  had  of  the  poison,  that  it  had 
taken  sure  effect,  and  that  they  would  remain  insensible  for  many 
nights  and  days. 

But  alas !  her  case  was  hopeless  still,  and  she  was  almost  sorry 
for  what  she  had  done,  for  there,  towering  up  before  her,  were  those 
fatal  gates,  and  she  sat  down  and  wept  at  her  own  forlorn  state. 

Suddenly  she  dried  her  eyes,  for  she  remembered  the  beehive 
fairy.  She  could  not  attempt  to  escape  and  leave  him  in  misery  ; 
so  she  formed  the  worthy  and  benevolent  design  of  rescuing  him 
from  his  captivity.  She  ran  towards  the  prison,  and  heard  the  poor 
little  fellow's  groans  before  she  had  quite  reached  the  place. 

"  Little  sufferer,"  said  she,  as  she  approached  the  formidable 
hive,  "can  I  do  anything  for  you?" 

"  Who  is  that,"  answered  a  forlorn  voice,  "  who  speaks  so  kindly  ? 
I  have  not  heard  a  word  of  kindness  for  a  long  time." 

"  It  is  I,"  answered  Jessie,  "  who  have  come  to  free  you  ;  and  if 
you  promise  not  to  thwart  me  in  my  plan  of  attempting  to  escape,  I 
will  let  you  out  of  this  miserable  dungeon." 

"  Oh  !  "  answered  the  fair)',  falling  upon  his  knees,  "  this  is  really 
rendering  good  for  evil.  I  solemnly  declare  to  you,  that  if  you  will 


AND   OTHER'  TALES.  185 

have  the  goodness  to  liberate  me,  I  will  not  only  thank  you  and  be 
eternally  grateful,  but  I  will  assist  you  to  escape ;  and  I,  who  would 
not  be  safe  here  longer,  —  for  my  doom  on  the  return  of  the  queen 
would  be  death,  —  will  go  with  you  and  help  you  along  on  your  peril- 
ous path  j  and  then  when  you  are  safe  at  home,  I  will  wing  my  way 
over  mountains  and  seas,  and  will  find  a  haven  of  rest  in  some  fairy 
tribe  in  distant  lands." 

Jessie  was  too  overjoyed  to  speak,  and  she  silently  drew  the  bolt 
"of  the  terrible  beehive,  not  without  some  danger  for  herself  from 
the  infuriated  tenants,  and  there  the  once  bright  and  gentlemanly 
fairy  stood  before  her,  his  gay  apparel  stained  and  disfigured,  and 
his  whole  appearance  altered.  He  again  bent  his  knee  to  Jessie, 
and  said,  in  accents  of  gallantry :  — 

"  You  alone  do  I  acknowledge  as  my  queen  ;  you  alone  will  I 
guide  or  follow,  as  the  case  may  be,  to  the  ends  of  the  earth." 

The  fairy  had  unfortunately  lost  the  power  of  flying,  for  the  wings 
which  had  formerly  glittered  on  his  shoulders  were  bruised  and  use- 
less ;  so  the  little  mortal  and  he  consulted  together  with  earnest 
intent  for  a  means  of  escape. 

"  If  we  could  only  get  over  those  brazen  gates,"  said  the  fairy, 
"  half  the  difficulty  would  be  over ;  but  alas !  there  they  stand  at 
the  very  beginning  of  our  journey,  and  it  is  impossible  to  pass  them 
by,  as  the  keeper  who  opened  them  for  our  entrance  has  gone  with 
the  queen  to  her  marriage." 

"  Ah,"  said  Jessie,  "  then  all  is  in  vain,  and  we  must  remain  here, 
subject  to  the  queen's  wrath  when  she  returns  !  " 

As  the  little  maiden  said  these  words,  she  leaned  heavily  against 
the  tall,  brazen  structure,  grief-bowed  and  despondent ;  but  her 
whole  frame  shook  with  pleasure  as  she  felt  the  gates  yield  a  little 
to  the  pressure  of  her  light  form.  The  fairy  perceived  this  also,  and 
upon  examining  them  more  particularly,  they  found  that  the  gates 
were  not  locked  at  all,  and  that  the  keeper,  in  the  hurry  of  his 


1 86  FAIR  Y-LAND 


departure,  must  have  forgotten  to  do  his  last  duty.  Then,  with  glad 
hearts,  they  opened  the  gate  upon  its  groaning  hinges,  and  gliding 
out,  found  themselves  still  in  fairy-land,  but  out  in  the  broad,  uncul- 
tivated fields. 

Next  came  the  sea  of  fire.  When  Jessie  saw  this  roaring  element, 
this  ocean  of  flame,  raging  and  boiling  up  near  her,  she  burst  into 
a  passion  of  tears.  Life  seemed  very  dark  to  the  child,  and  she 
almost  wished  herself  safe  again  in  the  palace  ;  but  it  was  too  late 
to  retrace  her  path,  for  the  rage  of  the  queen  was  more  terrible  than 
a  whole  universe  of  fire. 

The  fairy,  at  least,  knew  what  to  do ;  for  he  told  Jessie  that  hid- 
den in  an  immense  tree,  near  the  bank  of  the  stream,  was  a  boat 
made  of  asbestos.  He  told  her,  too,  that  this  was  a  kind  of  wood 
upon  which  fire  had  no  effect,  and  that  it  was  used  by  inferior  fairies 
who  came  to  visit  them,  who  could  not  fly,  or  for  those  of  their  own 
kind  who  had  accidentally  injured  their  plumes. 

Of  course  his  strength  was  not  much,  —  for  he  was  weakened  by 
his  long  confinement,  —  but  his  will  was  great,  and  he  assisted  Jes- 
sie to  draw  the  boat  with  its  two  asbestos  oars  to  the  brink ;  and 
never  was  vessel  launched  with  more  rejoicing. 

It  was  a  terrible  thing  to  Jessie  to  find  herself  upon  that  strange, 
sea,  almost  parched  with  the  overpowering  heat ;  but  the  watchwords, 
—  father  and-mother  !  —  nerved  her  heart  and  her  arm,  and  the  mute 
couple  soon  found  themselves  over  the  narrow  sea,  and  at  the  oppo- 
site shore. 

It  was  an  easy  thing  to  climb  up  the  low  banks ;  and  setting  the 
boat  adrift,  they  watched  it  for  a  moment  float  down  the  fiery  stream. 
The  fairy  proposed  giving  nine  cheers,  but  Jessie  only  offered  up  a 
silent  prayer  of  gratitude,  and  went  onward  on  her  journey. 

It  was  a  day's  travel  from  the  river  of  flames  to  the  mountain  of 
ice,  and  the  new  companions  trudged  bravely  along  the  same  road. 
The  fairy  entertained  Jessie  with  all  the  adventures  of  his  life,  and 


AND   OTAER    TALES. 


I87 


I  can  assure  you  that  some  were  as  strange  as  the  one  in  which  they 
were  now  engaged.  He  had  been  a  wild  fellow,  and  he  was  a  merry 
and  agreeable  one.  It  was  to  Jessie's  advantage  that  she  had  such 
a  tireless  companion  with  her ;  for,  had  she  been  alone,  her  spirits 
must  have  died  within  her,  and  she  would  have  become  faint  in  the 
way.  She  said  all  the  prayers  she  knew  to  the  fairy,  into  whose 
breast  she  hoped  to  instil  some  portion  of  gratitude  for  their  escape  ; 
but  alas !  he  only  laughed  or  sung,-  and  Jessie  smiled  through  her 
tears  at  his  antics.  His  voice  was  very  sweet  and  flute-like,  and 
this  was  his  favorite  song,  —  not  very  good  poetry  by  the  by :  — 


"  Through  the  brass  gate, 

Over  the  sea, 
Nothing  can  stop 

Jessie  and  me. 

She  with  her  gentle  step, 

I  with  my  bold, 
Onward  we'll  go 

Through  heat  and  the  cold. 

Over  the  mountain 

Covered  with  ice, 
Through  the  broad  garden 

We'll  bound  in  a  trice. 

Then  through  the  woods, 
By  the  old  woodland  stream, 

We'll  find  ourselves  walking 
Like  folks  in  a  dream. 


Then  the  white  cottage 

We'll  spy  through  the  trees, 

No  more  we'll  be  prey 
No  monsters  of  bees. 

She  to  her  mother 

With  arms  wide  spread  out ; 
She  to  her  father, 

With  glad  joyous  shout. 

I,  to  the  ends  of  the 

Broad  eartfi  will  go, 
Feeling  the  sadness 

The  desolate  know. 

Will  mourn  like  a  dove 
Bereft  of  its  mate  —  " 


Jessie  was  always  so  affected  at  this  point,  that  she  never  heard 
the  end  of  the  song ;  for  she  invariably  requested  the  fairy  to  stop 
before  the  verse  was  ended;  which  request,  with  his  usual  politeness, 
he  granted. 

But  at  last,  serious  times  came,  and  all  singing  was  suspended ; 
for  there  before  them,  like  a  huge  looking-glass  for  giants  and  mon- 


1 88  FAIRY-LAND 


sters,  rose  the  tall  mountain  of  ice.  How  were  they  to  cross  it  ? 
They  themselves  did  not  know  for  some  time,  but  at  last  they  found 
a  way. 

Jessie  began  as  usual  to  cry,  but  the  bold  fairy  kissed  her  flushed 
cheek,  and  told  her  to  be  comforted,  and  he  would  go  in  search  of 
something  with  which  to  scale  the  mountain.  He  remained  away 
so  long  that  Jessie  thought  he  would  never  return,  and  she  was  just 
about  to  give  up  in  despair  when  she  discovered  him  at  a  little  dis- 
tance, trailing  along  a  kind  of  walking-stick,  with  a  mournful  coun- 
tenance. 

"Alas,  Jessie,"  said  he,  "I  can  find  nothing  but  this,  and  your 
shoes  are  so  slippery  that  you  will  never  be  able  to  climb  the  moun- 
tain, and  we  must  lie  down  here  and  die  ! " 

Jessie  felt  in  her  pocket  for  her  handkerchief  (the  usual  refuge  for 
the  distressed),  and  a  gleam  of  joy  lighted  up  her  countenance. 

She  had  exchanged  the  elegant  clothes  the  queen  had  given  her 
for  those  made  by  her  mother,  and  which  she  had  on  when  the  fairy 
found  her  by  the  stream.  In  the  pocket,  then,  of  this  homely  dress 
she  felt  a  hard  substance,  and  drawing  it  out  discovered  that  it  was 
a  package  of  tacks  which  her  father  had  given  her,  together  with  a 
little  hammer,  to  make  a  cart  which  her  kitten  was  to  draw. 

The  desperate  are  always  fruitful  in  inventions,  and  she  called  the 
fairy  and  told  him  her  plan.  It  was  this  :  to  insert  these  little  nails 
firmly  in  her  shoes  so  that  they  might  cling  to  the  ice,  and  with  the 
staff,  she  hoped  they  might  scale  the  mountain. 

Nor  was  she  mistaken.  But  how  was  the  fairy  to  ascend  ?  His 
wings  had  not  quite  grown  out  and  he  could  only  fly  a  short  dis- 
tance ;  but  Jessie  volunteered  to  have  him  perch  on  her  shoulder, 
which  the  little  fellow  gladly  did ;  nor  did  she  regret  her  offer  at  all, 
for  when  she  was  weary  he  cheered  her,  and  when  sad  he  encour- 
aged her,  until  they  arrived  at  the  summit  of  the  ice  mountain. 

They  stopped  for  a  while  to  look  at  the  prospect.     It  was  per- 


AND   OTHER    TALES.  189 


fectly  sublime.  Trees  of  the  richest  dyes,  birds  of  the  gayest 
plumage  colored  the  landscape.  The  golden  sunlight  played  over 
the  palace  of  fairy-land,  which  glittered  with  its  thousand  jewels. 
The  sea  of  fire  wound  like  a  burnished  thread  through  the  wood- 
lands, while  the  garden  of  fruit,  although  distant,  sent  its  exquisite 
perfume  all  around. 

Jessie  gazed  quite  delighted,  and  seemed  inclined  to  remain  there 
forever ;  but  the  fairy  reminded  her  that  they  still  had  a  great  peril 
before  them.  "  And,"  said  he,  shaking  his  head  and  shutting  his 
eyes,  as  near-sighted  people  do  in  order  to  see  better,  "  I  distinguish 
something  that  looks  like  the  bridal  train  yonder  in  the  distance, 
and  we  must  be  up  and  going." 

It  was  an  easy  matter  to  descend  the  mountain.  They  slid  very 
quietly  down  to  the  bottom,  and  although  Jessie  was  almost  frozen 
to  death,  and  though  her  cheeks  and  her  little  nose  were  as  rosy  as 
the  red  clouds  over  the  lake  of  fire,  her  heart  kept  her  body  warm, 
for  that  was  burning  with  the  love  of  the  dear  ones  at  home. 

At  the  foot  of  the  mountain  the  fairy  brought  Jessie  some  water, 
in  one  of  her  shoes,  for  refreshment,  and  a  few  bright-looking  apples 
he  had  gathered  from  one  of  a  group  of  rich  green  trees.  Jessie 
took  the  proffered  gifts  with  great  willingness,  for  the  little  bag  of 
provisions  she  had  brought  from  fairy-land  had  nearly  given  out. 
Indeed,  it  was  so  long  since  her  companion  had  tasted  anything  like 
tolerable  food  in  his  prison,  that  he  ate  too  voraciously  of  her  store 
to  enable  the  supply  to  last  very  long. 

After  a  short  nap  under  the  inviting  cluster  of  apple-trees,  which 
refreshed  Jessie  very  much,  she  looked  towards  the  last  and  worst 
peril,  the  garden  of  fruit-trees,  and  then  up  to  heaven,  and  took  the 
first  step  towards  the  dreaded  spot.  It  was  a  whole  day's  journey 
to  this  place,  and  you  may  be  sure  that  the  travellers  made  a  thou- 
sand plans  to  overcome  the  dangers  which  awaited  them  ;  but  in  vain. 
Nothing  would  answer ;  and  even  the  fairy  seemed  in  despair.  He 


IQO  FAIRY-LAND 


looked  at  his  wings,  now  grown  quite  respectable,  and  he  looked  at 
Jessie  and  shook  his  head. 

<rNo  !  even  if  I  could  fly,"  said  he,  "she  would  be  left  to  be  de- 
voured by  the  giants,  and  I  must  not  suffer  that.  Oh,  no  !  I  could 
not  leave  this  gentle  and  generous  mortal  to  perish  here ;  and  yet 
my  wings  have  grown  finely,  and  I  dare  say  I  might  fly.  I  will  try. 
Her  feelings  will  be  dreadful  when  she  sees  me  about  to  leave  her. 
It  is  too  painful  to  think  of"  ;  and  this  brave,  bold  coxcomb,  spread 
abroad  his  small  wings  of  purple  and  gold,  and  soaring  up  into  the 
air,  gave  one  thought  to  liberty  and  a  happy  home  in  distant  lands, 
and  another  to  the  child  who  stood  looking  up  with  wonder  in  her 
innocent  eyes,  and  in  a  minute  more  he  was  by  her  side. 

Poised,  for  an  instant,  between  heaven  and  earth,  the  noble  fairy 
formed  the  resolution,  for  the  sake  of  Jessie,  not  to  go.  He  placed 
his  white  and  dainty  finger  upon  his  brow  for  an  instant,  as  if  in 
deep  thought,  and  then  said  to  his  companion,  as  if  struck  with  a 
new  idea,  — 

"  Have  you  the  vial,  and  is  there  any  more  poison  in  it  ? " 

"  Yes,"  said  Jessie,  gladly,  holding  up  the  vial  which  she  had  in 
her  bosom,  "  enough  to  make  twenty  giants  insensible,  if  it  could 
have  such  an  effect." 

"Certainly  it  would."  returned  the  fairy ;  "  and  you  know  that  they 
always  sleep  standing  at  the  entrance  of  the  garden,  in  order  to  be 
better  prepared  againsf  intruders.  This  is  my  plan  :  I  will  take  the 
vial,  and,  while  they  slumber,  fly  near  enough,  with  noiseless  wing, 
to  drop  some  of  the  liquid  upon  the  eyes  of  each ;  and,  if  all  pros- 
pers, we  shall  be  free.  But  remember,  my  little  lady,  that  this  is  an 
undertaking  of  great  danger,  and  it  will  require  the  boldness  of  a 
Bonaparte,  the  skill  of  a  Wellington,  the  caution  of  a  Washington, 
and  the  everything  of  a  fairy ;  and  it  must  be  done  in  the  night, 
when  the  giants  are  dreaming  of  breakfasts  of  little  children,  din- 
ners of  boys  and  girls,  and  suppers  of  men  and  women.  We  can 


AND   OTHER   TALES.  191 


hear  their  snores,  and  we  shall  know  by  that  when  to  approach.  If 
the  plan  succeeds,  they  will  remain  for  some  time  insensible,  as  if 
they  were  dead  ;  and  when  they  awake,  hurrah  !  we  shall  be  far,  far 
away  from  their  dominions.  Do  you  fully  appreciate,  madam,"  con- 
tinued the  fairy,  bowing,  "  the  dangers  that  I  undertake  for  you,  and 
the  way  in  which  I  risk  my  most  precious  life  for  your  sake  ? " 

Jessie  turned  away  to  hide  a  smile,  and  then,  with  a  lovely  grace, 
thanked  her  companion  for  all  his  trouble.  It  was  really  a  most 
peculiar  undertaking ;  but  as  they  heard  the  snore  of  the  giants 
beat  the  air  like  thunder,  the  fairy  bade  Jessie  an  affectionate  fare- 
well, and  mounting  high  in  the  air,  with  the  precious  vial  in  his 
hands,  was  soon  out  of  sight. 

Thump,  thump,  thump,  went  Jessie's  heart  as  she  stood  behind  a 
tree,  as  if  that  could  shield  her  from  the  rage  of  a  giant,  and  she 
trembled  so  that  she  wished  the  ground  might  open  and  take  her  in. 
She  clasped  the  tree  with  her  shaking  hands,  and,  closing  her  eyes, 
awaited  her  doom. 

Hush !  hush  !  what  is  that  sound,  like  an  earthquake,  that  stuns 
her  where  she  stands?  And,  hark!  yet  another,  and  a  groan  that 
seems  like  the  voice  of  a  multitude  !  Jessie  could  bear  it  no  longer, 
and  giving  one  long  and  hopeless  scream,  fell  upon  the  earth 
fainting. 

When  she  recovered  from  her  death-like  swoon,  she  opened  her 
eyes  upon  the  fairy,  who  was  bending  over  her,  with  anxious  looks, 
and  sprinkling  water  upon  her  white  face.  He  clasped  his  little 
fingers,  with  an  air  of  gratitude  and,  bending  on  one  knee  before 
her,  said  : 

"  Queen  of  the  woodlands,  we  are  free  !  But  your  majesty  cannot 
praise  me  too  much  for  my  valor  and  discretion.  Yes,  /  dropped 
the  liquid  upon  their  eyes ;  /  saw  them  fall,  and  /  flew  here  to  tell 
jou  the  tale,  and 

To  take  you  home  to  your  parents'  arms, 
Where  you  shall  be  safe  and  free  from  alarms." 


192  FAIRY-LAND 


Oh  !  how  exquisite  the  dawning  of  that  clay  was  to  our  little 
flower,  Jessie !  Hope  raised  her  bowed  head  ;  hope  directed  her 
willing  steps  ;  hope  nerved  her  tired  frame  ;  and  her  voice  burst 
forth  into  song,  as  she  entered  that  delicious  garden,  the  garden  of 
fruits.  She  turned  away  her  head  from  the  prostrate  giants,  not 
caring  to  look  upon  anything  so  repulsive  and  disagreeable,  and  her 
light  feet  kept  time  to  the  music  which  her  voice  uttered  : 

"  Mother,  mother,  I  come  to  thee, 
Open  thine  arms  to  welcome  me  ; 
Press  me  to  thy  yearning  breast, 
And  let  me  there  delighted  rest. 
Mother,  I  come  to  thee  ! 

"  Father,  father,  with  voice  so  mild, 

Welcome,  welcome  thy  truant  child  ; 

Let  me  ne'er  leave  the  home  I  love, 

Till  called  to  the  brighter  one  above. 

Father,  I  come  to  thee  ! 

"  My  flowers,  my  birds,  my  kitten  dear, 
For  you  has  been  shed  the  bitter  tear  : 
No  more  shall  I  pine,  or  murmur,  or  sigh, 
As  my  steps*to  the  portal  of  home  draw  nigh. 
Sweet  home,  I  come  to  thee." 

As  Jessie  sung  the  last  line  of  that  song,  which  gushed  out  of  her 
heart  like  the  trill  of  a  bird,  a  voice  took  up  the  measure,  but  in  a 
tone  so  sad,  so  broken,  that  the  tears  streamed  down  her  face  as 
she  stopped  to  listen.  It  said  :  — 

"  Sweet  home,  sweet  home  !  —  no  more,  no  more 
Shall  I  see  the  home  that  I  adore ! 
My  mother's  prayer,  my  mother's  smile, 
In  dreams  alone  my  heart  beguile. 
Mother  and  home,  good-by. 


AND   OTHER    TALES.  193 

"  I  have  been  years  imprisoned  here  — 
My  youthful  heart  is  old  and  sere  : 
I  ask  not  joy,  and  the  whole  world's  charms, 
But  only  death  in  my  mother's  arms. 
Mother  and  home,  good-by." 


Could  Jessie  hear  that  song,  and  not  search  for  the  broken  heart 
which  uttered  it  ?  I  think  not.  The  warm  tears  stole  down  her 
cheeks,  and  her  hand  stayed  from  gathering  a  golden  apple  which 
hung  temptingly  near  her.  She  looked  above,  below,  and  around, 
and  at  last,  chained  to  a  luxuriant  nectarine  tree,  whose  fruit  was 
too  high  to  be  reached  by  his  emaciated  hands,  she  saw  the  being 
from  whose  despairing  soul  that  song  had  issued,  —  the  veritable  boy 
who  had  so  incurred  the  fairy  queen's  anger,  with  his  dark  eyes  cast 
down  in  despondency,  and  the  fresh  morning  air  playing  with  his 
damp  curls. 

Was  there  ever  such  a  bound  as  that  which  Jessie  gave  to  his 
side  ?  Was  there  ever  such  a  pitying  look  as  that  which  she  cast 
upon  the  chained  child  ?  Never !  But,  then,  — was  there  ever  such 
joy  on  any  human  face  when  he  told  her  that  the  key  which  unlocked 
the  chain  was  hidden  under  a  large  stone  near  ?  I  must  say  again, 
never  I  •  Jessie  lifted  it;  how,  I  do  not  know,  for  it  was  a  very 
heavy  stone  ;  but  we  can  do  great  things  sometimes  when  urged  on 
by  love  ;  and,  while  the  fairy  ate,  with  inexpressible  satisfaction,  the 
choicest  of  golden  pippins,  she  set  the  prisoner  at  liberty. 

And  how  did  the  boy  act  when  he  felt  the  great  load  taken  from 
his  heart,  and  his  body  unshackled  ?  First,  he  thanked  God,  and 
then,  opening  wide  his  freed  arms,  welcomed  Jessie  to  them,  as  a 
brother  would  a  sister ;  but  the  fairy  would  not  let  them  ask  or 
answer  any  questions  within  the  precincts  of  fairy-land. 

And  then  they  began  to  travel  in  good  earnest,  never  stopping  to 
gather  one  of  the  golden  apples  which  tempted  them  on  their  way, 
13 


194  FAIRY-LAND 


but  only  looking  with  admiring  eyes  upon  the  rich  green  foliage 
which  clothed  the  glistening  fruit  with  greater  beauty. 

Of  the  trio,  the  fairy  showed  the  most  happiness,  for  he  was  here, 
and  there,  and  everywhere,  talking,  laughing,  and  singing  ;  but  I  am 
sorry  to  say  that  the  burden  of  his  song  was  always  his  own  bravery 
or  his  own  beauty.  The  joy  of  the  others  was  more  subdued  and 
heartfelt  the  nearer  they  advanced  towards  the  magic  spot  of  home. 

Jessie  learned  that  the  boy's  name  was  Ernest,  and  that  he  lived 
a  few  miles  from  her  father's  cottage.  She  vaguely  remembered  a 
poor,  desolate  widow,  who,  a  long  time  ago,  had  come  to  the  home- 
stead to  inquire  after  her  lost  child,  and  her  hopeless  and  despairing 
glance  still  remained  on  her  memory. 

And  has  Jessie,  indeed,  so  nearly  reached  the  end  of  her  home- 
ward journey ;  and  is  that  indeed  the  stream  where  she  was  torn 
away  from  all  that  was  dear  in  life  ?  Truly  she  has  ;  but  the  fairy  is 
no  more  thejje  beside  her  like  a  tyrant  urging  her  on  her  way 
towards  fairy-land  ;  but  as  a  suppliant  on  one  knee  before  her,  he 
implores  her  in  the  most  affecting  manner  to  forgive  him,  actually 
forcing  a  tear  into  each  eye.  And  Jessie  freely  forgives  him  all. 

My  little  reader,  have  you  ever  been  tired  and  sleepy,  and  have 
you  found  rest  and  sleep,  at  hornet  Has  unkindness  made  you 
miserable,  and  have  you  found  sympathy  and  happiness,  at  home1} 
Then  you  may  know  how,  in  a  small  degree,  to  sympathize  with 
those  children  who  stood  one  night — their  long  journey  over  — 
looking  through  the  window  of  the  cottage  at  the  scene  within. 

I  shall  look  with  them,  and  tell  you  what  they  saw  and  heard. 
The  soiled,  white  muslin,  which  draped  the  casement,  shaded  them 
from  view,  and  they  listened  as  for  their  lives. 

They  saw  a  poor  fire  burning  upon  the  hearth,  and  a  group  of 
three  around  it,  —  Jessie's  father  and  mother,  and  the  childless 
widow,  who  had  been  so  long  robbed  of  her  son.  They  saw  a  look 
of  care  on  the  brow  of  each,  as  they  conversed  together.  Jessie's 


AND   OTHER   TALES.  195 

flower-pot  graced  the  low  mantle  ;  but  alas,  the  flowers  were  withered 
and  uncared  for.  Cages  were  there,  too,  but  the  birds  had  long 
since  pined  and  died,  while  a  solemn-looking  cat  moved  about 
uneasily  and  unnoticed.  The  father  heaved  a  long,,  deep  sigh, 
the  widow  sobbed  aloud,  while  the  wife  silently  wiped  her  tears 
away. 

"•  It  is  of  no  use,"  said  the  father,  at  last,  "  to  give  up  to  this 
deep,  deep  grief  any  more.  The  loss  of  my  child  should  not  make 
an  idler  of  me.  ^  I  must  not  waste  my  years  unprofitably,  but  must 
go  about  my  daily  concerns  and  try  to  make  the  cottage  more  com- 
fortable, and  the  farm  more  productive,  for  those  who  are  dependent 
upon  me.  Wife  and  neighbor,  I  am  ashamed  of  these  tears,  and 
will  begin  to-morrow  to  work  in  truth." 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  widow,  "  as  you  say,  its  no  use  to  sorrow ;  for 
God's  will  must  be  done.  A  brother  and  a  sister  have  you  been  to 
me  since  you  met  me  in  our  mutual  search  for  our  children,  and 
God  will  reward  you  for  offering  a  home  to  the  stricken  and  broken- 
hearted." 

And  Jessie's  mother  said  nothirig  but,  "  My  child  !  my  child  !  my 
child ! " 

"  It  is  all  dark  and  mysterious,"  said  the  father,  "  and  some  day, 
here  or  hereafter,  we  shall  know  more  about  it ; "  and  then  a  tender 
recollection  overcame  his  manliness,  and  he  sobbed,  "yes,  here, 
night  after  night,  in  these  arms  did  her  gentle  form  rest,  her  willing 
feet  were  never  tired  of  doing  for  others,  and  her  sweet  voice  glad- 
dened the  hardest  heart." 

And  then  the  widow  passionately  exclaimed,  "  O,  my  lost,  lost 
Ernest !  how  often  in  illness  have  you  been  my  help  and  stay ;  how 
often  did  your  hand  smooth  my  pillow  or  my  throbbing  head ;  how 
often  would  the  music  of  your  voice  lull  me  to  sleep,  or  cheer  me 
with  accents  of  joy  and  hope.  Ernest,  come  back  once  more  to 
say  '  good-by,'  and  I  will  be  willing  to  part  with  you  forever.  But 


196 


FAIRY-LAND 


why  do  I  dwell  on  that  which  never  again  can  be  ?  Hush,  heart ; 
hush,  rebellious  heart." 

And  Jessie's  mother  said  naught  but  "  My  child  !  my  child  !  my 
child !  " 

There  was  a  knock  at  that  cottage  door,  and  the  boy  and  girl 
stood  before  them  in  all  their  youth  and  beauty.  Poor  parents  ! 
poor,  deluded  parents  !  they  thought  that  it  was  a  dreara  come  to 
mock  them,  and  they  smiled  at  each  other  and  at  the  blessed  vision, 
afraid  to  move,  lest  they  should  disturb  the  exquisite  loveliness  of 
that  phantom  picture.  But  ah !  it  was  no  dream,  husband,  wife,  and 
widow ;  those  children  were  human,  and  yours,  —  and  to  your  hearts 
you  took  them,  and  perfect  joy  and  perfect  love  spread  their  white 
wings  over  that  humble  cottage. 

When  all  the  rapture  of  the  meeting  was  over,  then  came  the  story 
of  the  adventures  of  each ;  and  the  fairy  received  the  thanks  and 
admiration  of  all  to  his  heart's  content.  His  relation  of  all  that 
had  happened  was  listened  to  with  great  reverence,  and  nobody 
blamed  him  for  making  himself  the  hero,  and  everybody  loved  him 
for  his  daring  and  constancy.  Even  Arabella  Victoria  Marie  An- 
toinette, when  he  had  ended  all  that  he  had  to  say,  gave  a  mew  of 
approbation,  and  rubbed  her  silken  sides  against  this  most  potent 
hero. 

The  end  of  my  story  is,  that  that  night  the  fairy  disappeared  from 
the  happy  group,  and  was  seen  no  more. 


LOST  AND  FOUND. 

ON  a  bright,  soft  autumn  day, 
Two  glad  children  took  their  way 
To  the  woods  through  pleasant  fields, 
Just  to  see  the  bird's-nests  there, 
And  to  taste  the  berries  rare 

That  the  shaded  valley  yields ; 


AND  OTHER   TALES.  1 97 


Just  to  see  the  pretty  flowers 
In  their  quiet  woodland  bowers, 

Or  the  trees'  deep,  changing  green; 
Or  to  look  at  azure  skies 
With  their  own  blue,  tender  eyes, 

And  the  glittering  sunlight's  sheen. 

But,  alas  !  when  the  first  star 
In  the  twilight  beamed  afar, 

Sad,  feet-wearied,  worn  and  tost, 
Down  they  sank  forlorn  and  cold, 
And  the  truth  all  trembling  told, 

That  they  knew  that  they  were  lost. 

Lost,  —  and  weeping  bitter  tears, 
Lost,  —  and  growing  wild  with  fears, 

Sinking  hopeless  on  the  ground ! 
Hark !  a  voice  comes  on  the  air  : 
Has  a  mother  traced  them  there  ? 

Yes!  give  them  joy,  they're  found '! 


THOUGHTS  ABOUT  THE   MOON. 

OH,  saw  you  the  moon  as  she  gleamed  in  the  west 

When  the  stillness  of  eve  gave  a  feeling  of  rest, 

Like  a  slight  silver  thread  on  the  soft  glowing  skies, 

Down  floating  serene  where  the  setting  sun  dies  ? 

As  you  gazed  on  her  waving  so  clear  and  so  bright, 

Oh,  throbbed  not  your  heart,  as  mine  throbbed,  with  delight  ? 

An€  did  you  not  see  near  her  brightness  a  star,  — 
A  beautiful  jewel  in  twilight  afar  ? 
Oh,  I  wished  for  the  crescent,  so  rich  and  so  rare, 
To  crown  the  soft  waves  of  a  sweet  maiden's  hair ; 
Oh,  I  longed  for  the  star's  burning  ray  in  the  west 
To  place  as  a  brooch  on  her  pure  and  white  breast. 


198  FAIRY-LAND 


A  thousand  such  fancies  came  into  my  mind 
Each  night  as  I  saw  her  more  clearly  defined ; 
Till  over  the  world  she  uprose  like  a  car, 
And  I  yearned  to  be  sailing  wit.iin  her  afar 
With  one  that  I  love  in  the  clear  azure  even, 
With  one  that  I  love,  in  the  moonlighted  heaven. 

Then  rounder  and  brighter  and  rounder  she  seemed; 
More  golden  and  larger  and  orb-like  she  beamed, 
Into  life  sprang  each  tree  as  she  looked  upon  earth, 
And  to  numberless  dew-drops  her  brightness  gave  birth  ; 
And  she  walked  o'er  the  sky  in  her  train  pearly  white 
Lake  the  queen,  as  she  was,  of  the  beautiful  night 

Then  fainter  and  paler  her  drapery  showed  ; 

A  circlet  no  more  in  the  wide  heavens  glowed; 

I  watched  with  eyes  tearful  each  night  as  she  waned, 

And  her  fast-fleeting  roundness  my  loving  heart  pained, 

Till  again  the  curved  car  cut  the  darkening  blue, 

And  closer  their  curtain  the  solemn  skies  drew. 

Oh,  she  came  like  night  music,  first  faint  to  the  ear, 
Then  nearer  and  nearer,  distinctly  and  clear, 
And  her  full  orb  to  me  was  the  melody  sweet 
Brought  near  to  my  window  by  on-coming  feet, 
And  her  fading,  the  notes  and  their  echo,  that  fell 
Far  departing,  a  mournful  funereal  knell. 

I  know  not,  I  know  not,  I  never  can  say 

If  the  clouds  or  the  brightness  her  beauties  display  ; 

For  sometimes  she  modestly  shades  her  sweet  eyes, 

And  I  jealously  long  for  the  mist  to  arise  ; 

And  then  when  each  cloud  steals  reluctant  away 

I  wish  that  their  veil,  so  becoming,  would  stay. 

Oh,  when  shall  I  see  her  again  in  the  clouds 

Peering  out,  and  white  fringing  their  mystical  shrouds  ? 

When  she  comes,  her  frail  beauty  with  pleasure  I'll  greet, 

Her  form  as  a  loved  one  long  absent  I'll  meet ; 

And  I'll  watch  for  that  thread  in  the  soft-glowing  skies 

Down  floating  serene  where  the  setting  sun  dies. 


AND   OTHER    TALES.  199 


WHAT     BECOMES     OF     PINS? 

BY   THE   AUTHOR   OF   THE   "LOST   CHILDREN." 

"  MY  gracious  !  "  said  Sally  Starlington,  "  where  do  the  pins  travel 
to  ?  It  is  only  a  little  while  since  I  bought  a  whole  paper,  and  now 
I  can't  find  one ;  the  paper,  to  be  sure,  is  here,  but  that  is  not  ex- 
actly the  thing.  I  shall  never  get  to  the  party  to-night ;  and  if  I 
don't,  what  consternation  there  will  be !  Mrs.  Goodhue  will  say, 
'Why,  what  can  keep  Miss  Starlington?'  and  there  will  be  such 
amazement  on  every  face  at  my  non-appearance,  that  it  will  be  by 
no  means  a  successful  party.  The  ice-cream  will  certainly  not  freeze, 
the  custards  will  curdle,  and  everybody  will  blame  Miss  Starlington, 
Miss  Starlington !  Betty,  you  must  find  me  one  pin  to  secure  this 
sash." 

Poor  Betty  took  the  last  pin  from  her  own  handkerchief,  which  no 
longer  kept  the  towering  height  on  her  head,  for  which  Southern 
waiting-women  are  distinguished,  and  gazed  in  admiration  upon  the 
lovely  girl  before  her,  —  and  lovely  she  really  was  ;  the  glass  said  so, 
and  I  say  so.  She.  was  a  fat  little  body,  quite  rotund,  which,  you 
know,  is  anything  but  fashionable ;  and  the  dimples  in  her  cheeks 
were  large  enough  to  hold  a  drop  of  water.  And  her  looking-glass 
said,  — 

"  Sally,  my  dear,  you  have  funny  little  flat  brown  curls  all  over 
your  head,  that  look  just  as  if  they  had  been  ironed  ;  and  your  brow 
is  very  smooth  and  white ;  and  your  eyebrows  are  fairy  bridges ;  and 
your  eyes  two  stars  shining  and  twinkling ;  and  your  nose  the  sweet- 
est little  pug  that  ever  ornamented  human  face  ;  and  your  mouth  and 
teeth,  darling !  Why,  rosebuds  are  nothing  to  the  first,  and  the  last 
shame  all  the  pearls  in  existence  ! " 

So,  as  this  was  the  talk  of  the  glass,  Sally  believed  it  more  than 


2OO  FAIRY-LAND 


ever  on  the  night  of  the  party ;  and  courtesying  to  her  other  self  in 
a  dignified  manner,  and  stumbling  over  Betty  in  an  undignified  man- 
ner, she  gave  her  mother  a  parting  kiss,  and,  after  the  fashion  of 
great  ladies,  threw  herself  into  the  carriage,  and  in  a  languid  tone 
desired  to  be  taken  to  Mrs.  Goodhue's. 

Mrs.  Goodhue  walked  with  rather  ungraceful  haste  up  to  the  little 
girl  and  expressed  a  hearty  welcome. 

"  My  dear  Miss  Starlington,"  she  said,  "  how  overjoyed  I  am  to 
see  you !  Nothing  in  the  whole  range  of  existence  could  have  given 
me  more  pleasure  than  your  arrival  on  this  evening,  my  Mimi's  birth- 
night, —  and  how  very  pretty  your  dress  is !  —  but  pray  stop  a  min- 
ute ;  your  ,sash  is  not  fastened ;  the  pin  has  probably  dropped  out ; 
I  wonder  what  has  become  of  it  ?  Pray  do  not  look  for  it,"  contin- 
ued Mrs.  Goodhue  ;  "  I  will  send  up-stairs  for  a  fresh  paper  bought 
this  morning,  and  you  are  welcome  to  any  quantity  of  them." 

"  It  is  the  strangest  thing,"  commenced  Sally ;  but  Mrs.  Goodhue 
interrupted  her. 

"What  could  have  kept  you  so  late?  Is  not  my  supper-table 
charming  ? "  and  any  one  would  really  have  thought  that  Sally  was 
of  some  importance  ;  for  Mrs.  Goodhue  took  her  to  look  at  the  ar- 
rangements of  the  supper-table,  and  ten  very  young  gentlemen  asked 
for  the  honor  of  her  hand  for  ten  dances.  And  she  was  so  self- 
important,  and  yet  so  sweetly  agreeable,  that  everybody  blessed  her 
little  round  face.  She  spoke  to  all  the  old  ladies  who  had  come  to 
look  on,  and  was  so  polite  to  them  that  she  won  their  hearts  at  once. 
She  allowed  her  mop-looking  head  to  be  patted  by  the  old  gentle- 
men, and  looked  up  so  confidingly  in  their  faces  that  they  wished 
that  they  had  just  such  a  little  daughter ;  and  then  her  laugh,  —  why, 
it  was  as  necessary  to  the  room  as  gas-light  was  to  make  it  bright  and 
cheerful ;  and  here  I  must  pause  a  moment  to  tell  you  what  some 
poet  unknown  to  fame  has  said  about 


AND   OTHER    TALES.  2OI 


SALLY'S    LAUGH. 

Did  you  ever  hear  our  Sally  laugh  ?    No  ? 
How  strange,  when  the  melody  gladdens  us  so  ! 
Well,  as  I  was  sitting  near  yonder  tree, 
The  grace  of  her  pretty  ways  to  see, 
Watching  the  shadows  chasing  each  other, 
And  playing  together  like  sister  and  brother,  — 
I  dare  say  you've  seen  them  so,  just  at  twilight, 
Ere  day  shut  his  sleepy  eyes  dreaming  of  night,  — 

Our  Sally  was  sitting  quite  close  to  the  brink 

Of  the  rivurlet  where  her  pet  lamb  goes  to  drink, 

With  his  bright  blue  ribbon  bmied  low 

In  his  fleece,  as  pure  as  new-dropped  snow  ; 

Her  feet  low  down  in  the  water  dipping, 

And  her  pet  of  the  same  clear  streamlet  sipping, 

While  bursts  of  merriment,  clear  and  free, 

Came  borne  on  the  air  to  gladden  me. 

First  a  rainbow-like  smile  flitted  over  her  face, 
Which  gave  to  her  dark  eyes  a  beautiful  grace, 
And  then  came  a  shout  of  such  joy-giving  glee 
That  my  footsteps  drew  nearer  our  Sally  to  see ; 
Like  a  murmur  of  water,  like  music's  full  swell, 
She  laughed,  —  but  at  what,  that  /  never  could  tell, 
And  neither  could  she  any  more  than  her  pet, 
But  that  sweet  laugh  at  nothing,  I'll  never  forget. 

But  see  her !  Who  but  Sally  ever  before  looked  pretty  while  eat- 
ing? Her  appetite  was  good,  and  she  certainly  did  justice  to  Mrs. 
Goodhue's  excellent  supper ;  for  first,  through  her  rosy  lips  disap- 
peared chicken  salad,  then  sandwiches  and  lemonade  and  ice-cream, 
with  innumerable  sugar-plums.  Nor  was  she  so  selfish  as  to  forget 
her  companion,  Willie  Parker,  with  whom  she  kept  up  at  intervals 
the  following  conversation  :  — 

"  What  warm  weather  we  are  having,"  said  Sally. 


2O2  FAIRY-LAND 


"  I  was  thinking  it  was  rather  cool,"  said  Willie. 

"  Yes ;  I  meant  it  was  cool,"  said  Sally ;  "  but  the  weather  is  so 
changeable." 

"  Very,"  answered  her  companion ;  "  but  don't  you  admire  the 
moon  above  all  things?" 

"  Oh,  yes ! "  returned  Sally  ;  "  and  the  sun,  —  isn't  that  sublime  ? 
I  declare  one  evening  it  was  as  handsome  as  one  of  mamma's  best 
China  plates." 

"  Oh,  that  must  have  been  elegant ! "  said  Willie. 

Then  came  a  long  pause  ;  after  which  the  old  subject  came  up  again, 

"  Don't  you  think  we  are  having  very  warm  weather  ? " 

"  Very,"  was  the  answer ;  "  but  do,  Willie,  help  me  to  a  sandwich  ; 
they  are  so  delicious !  Oj  Mrs.  Goodhue,  how  very  nice  your  supper 
is !  you  always  have  everything  about  you  so  French.  I  do  admire 
anything  that  is  French  so  much ! "  And  yet  little  Sally  herself  was 
Dutch  in  the  extreme. 

Mrs.  Goodhue  was  pleased  of  course,  and  said  so;  while  Ned 
Young,  who  prided  himself  upon  his  wit,  said,  — 

"  Sandwiches !  Are  you  talking  of  sandwiches  ?  Did  you  ever 
hear  this  conundrum :  '  Why  could  people  who  travel  in  the  desert 
live  without  taking  any  provisions  there  ? ' ' 

"  Nobody  could  answer  this  deep  question,  and  Ned  replied,  tri- 
umphantly,— ' 

"Because  they  could  eat  the  sand  which  is  (sandwiches)  under 
their  feet." 

"  How  unrefined  Ned  Young  is  with  his  anecdotes  and  loud  laugh  ! " 
whispered  Sally ;  and  yet  who  could  laugh  more  loudly  than  she  ? 

"  Miss  Starlington,"  said  Ned,  still  bent  upon  being  witty,  "  was  the 
moon  shining  when  you  came?" 

"  I  didn't  look,"  replied  Sally. 

"  Well,"  was  the  answer,  "  you  don't  know,  then,  if  it  was  as  light 
as  the  old  woman  said  it  was  ? " 


AND   OTHER    TALES. 


"  And  pray,  how  light  may  that  be  ?  "  asked  Sally,  with  a  curl  of 
her  lip. 

"Only  as  light  as  a  cork,"  replied  Ned,  amid  the  shout  of  the  by- 
standers. 

After  this,  the  company  moved  to  the  dancing-room  and  a  joyous 
time  did  they  have.  Sally,  however,  slipped  on  a  piece  of  orange- 
peel  ;  but  she  arose  gracefully,  hid  her  blushing  face  in  her  handker- 
chief, which  was  filled  with  sugar-plums,  and  then  danced  away  again 
as  briskly  as  ever. 

The  party  did  not  last  very  long,  for  Miss  Starlington,  from  a  time- 
honored  custom,  did  not  approve  of  dancing  after  supper,  and  Sally 
was  soon  ready  to  go  ;  but  a  pin  she  must  have  to  fasten  her  hood. 

"  Wait  a  bit,"  said  Mrs.  Goodhue  ;  "  here,  you  shall  have  one  from 
my  cape  "  ;  but  no  !  there  were  the  loose  ends  dangling,  and  the  pin 
not  there.  Mrs.  Goodhue  wished  to  send  up-stairs  for  the  paper 
again,  but  Sally  would  not  on  any  account  think  of  that  ;  so  she  held 
the  hood  until  she  found  herself  again  at  home,  standing  before  her 
looking-glass,  ready  to  undress,  and  answering  Betty's  and  its  num- 
berless questions. 

"  Well,"  said  the  glass. 

"  Perfectly  delightful,"  said  Sally. 

"  You  have  a  rich  crimson  glow  upon  your  cheeks  and  your  eyes 
are  brighter  than  ever." 

"I  danced  a  quadrille  with  Dick  Cross,  a  charming  polka  with 
Charlie  Graves,  and  intended  to  waltz  with  John  Bell  and  Dick  ;  but 
they  quarrelled  about  it,  and  so  I  took  Mary  Davis  instead." 

"That  look  of  scorn  becomes  you  as  heat-lightning  does  the 
skies,"  said  the  glass. 

"  And  I  told  them  that  I  should  never  dance  with  them  again  for 
behaving  so,  if  I  lived  two  hundred  years  ;  but  I  could  not  exactly 
keep  my  word,  you  know,  when  they  promised  never  to  do  so  again, 
as  long  as  they  breathed  the  breath  of  life.  Oh,  I  forgot  to  tell  you, 


204  FAIRY-LAND 


Betty,  that  Willie  took  me  in  to  supper.  What  a  very  agreeable 
person  he  is,  so  intellectual  and  refined ;  but  what  a  delightful  old 
lady  Mrs.  Brown  is.  I  stood  near  her  for  a  long  time,  hearing  her 
tell  of  some  poor  children  who  are  in  great  want;  I  am  going 
to-morrow  to  give  them  some  old  dresses  ;  but  Betty,  make  haste,  I 
am  so  sleepy  and  tired ;  there,  you  have  bent  that  pin  quite 
crooked,  and  you  might  as  well  throw  it  away ;  no,  on  the  whole  you 
had  better  not,  they  go  away  fast  enough  themselves." 

So  it  came  to  pass  that  after  Sally  had  said  her  nightly  prayer  and 
folded  her  dimpled  hands,  her  white  lids  closed  in  sleep.  Her 
breath  at  first  came  slowly  and  then  more  quickly*  and  troubled,  so 
that  one  might  well  imagine  that  she  was  dreaming  some  almost 
unutterable  tbing.  But  I  shall  try  to  tell  you  about  it.  She  dreamed 
that  a  little  fairy  perched  herself  upon  the  top  of  one  of  her  bed- 
posts and  said  to  her,  abruptly,  — 

"  I  will  tell  you  what  becomes  of  pins" 

The  little  woman  looked  very  important  as  she  said  this,  and  being 
dressed  in  the  most  approved  fairy  fashion,  Sally,  who  had  always 
wished  to  see  such  a  personage,  was  instantly  interested.  Her  gypsy 
hat  was  a  rose-leaf,  most  coquettishly  bent  over  her  ears,  from  which 
two  brilliant  diamonds  hung.  The  hat  was  tied  under  her  chin  with 
the  softest  shades  of  the  silkworm's  work.  Her  dress  was  of  woven 
gold,  and  upon  her  breast  shone  a  single  forget-me-not.  What  struck 
Sally  as  very  peculiar  and  quite  out  of  taste  was  a  cushion  attached 
to  her  side,  which  contained  several  pins,  small  and  large,  dull,  shin- 
ing, or  rusty. 

"  We  are  great  people,"  said  the  fairy,  "  and  we  live  in  a  great 
country.  From  the  nature  of  our  soil  and  the  character  of  our 
atmosphere  we  require  pins  for  use  or  embellishment.  For  in- 
stance, all  our  fencing  is  done  with  pins  ;  our  pavements  are  pins 
firmly  fastened  in  the  ground,  their  heads  being  a  secure  and  elegant 
walk,  and  we  make  use  of  them  for  the  roofs  of  our  houses,  enclosing 


AND   OTHER    TALES.  2O5 

our  trees,  and  in  a  thousand  other  ways.  Everybody  acknowledges 
that  all  mankind  and  fairy-kind  are  dependent,  more  or  less,  on  each 
other  for  something ;  the  doctor  on  his  patients,  the  merchant  on 
his  .purchasers,  the  minister  on  his  people,  so  we  are  dependent  on 
you  iov  pins.  Consider  for  a  moment ;  since  their  introduction,  we, 
an  immense  race  of  people,  not  knowing  how  to  manufacture  them, 
have  been  gathering  them  for  our  beloved  country,  which  sparkle 
with  their  borrowed  light.  How  busy  the  scene  !  Miles  and  miles 
in  the  distance  one  sees  sparkling  fences  stretched  out  over  well- 
cultivated  lands ;  beneath  the  feet  our  pavements  invite  the  evening 
promenade.  Myriads  of  fairies  arrive  each  moment  laden  with  their 
precious  spoils  and  deposit  them  in  a  storehouse,  built  with  an  almost 
inconceivable  magnificence,  while  authorized  officers  report  the 
increase  to  the  king,  who  rewards  or  punishes  according  to  the 
industry  and  activity  of  the  pin-gatherers.  That  our  king  is  some- 
times severe,  I  must  confess,  and  so  much  is  he  wrapt  up  in  the  idea 
of  progress  and  improvement,  that  I  will  relate  to  you  an  occurrence 
which  happened  in  his  domains.  Upon  each  mortal  of  the  softer 
sex,  yourself  for  instance,  there  attends  an  invisible  fairy  endeavoring 
by  every  art  to  abstract  pins  from  her  apparel.  Should  you  arrange 
your  sash  in  fancied  security  and  soon  perceive  it  be  unfastened, 
you  may  know  what  influence  has  been  at  work  ;  you  constantly  miss 
pins  from  your  toilet ;  you  will  know  after  this  to  whom  to  trace  the 
loss.  You  purchase  a  paper  to-day  ;  in  a  short  time  they  all  disap- 
pear, —  now  you  will  well  know  in  what  way.  I  must  not  leave  you 
unenlightened  on  one  point,  however,  that  attendant  fairies  never 
take  pins  either  from  boxes  or  papers  ;  they  consider  this  below  their 
genius,  and  it  would  not  be  at  all  sanctioned  by  the  king.  But  to  my 
sad  recital.  Not  long  ago,  our  monarch  sent  out  his  subjects  with 
particular  injunctions  to  bring  home  a  large  harvest,  as  he  wished  to 
enclose  a  piece  of  land  for  .the  sport  of  the  royal  children.  '  We  all 
came  in  well  laden  at  the  appointed  day,  except  one  fairy,  who  was 


2O6  FAIRY-LAND 


the  attendant  upon  a  young  maiden  who  determined  that  for  three 
months  she  would  use  only  those  pins  that  she  could  pick  up,  as  she 
found  that  she  was  too  extravagant  in  these  useful  articles  of  the 
toilet  and  wished  to  economize.  Very  wroth  indeed  was  the  king 
when  he  saw  Violetta  almost  empty-handed  return  from  her  expe- 
dition. His  usually  smooth  brow  was  clouded,  and  he  ordered  her 
to  be  brought  to  the  hall  of  justice.  Heavens  !  how  we  trembled  at 
his  rage  and  the  strange  mood  in  which  he  was.  The  darkness  of  a 
coming  storm  covered  the  land  and  vivid  lightnings  made  the  scene 
more  terrific.  Violetta  drooped  like  the  flower  whose  name  she 
bears,  and  besought,  on  bended  knees,  for  mercy  ;  but  in  vain.  They 
dragged  her  by  her  beautiful  hair,  soft  as  the  finest  silkworm's  thread ; 
her  exquisite  form  swayed  to  and  fro  with  the  agony  of  helpless  grief, 
like  the  willow  in  the  wind,  and  her  blue  eyes  filled  with  tears. 

"  Violetta,"  said  the  king,  sternly,  "  what  hast  thou  to  answer  for 
thyself? " 

She  told  her  story  with  a  voice  broken  by  heart-rending  sobs,  but 
nothing  availed ;  some  demon  seemed  to  be  ruling  our  monarch,  and 
he  commanded  that  she  should  be  empaled  for  twenty-four  hours 
upon  one  of  the  very  pins  which  she  had  brought.  Right  glad  were 
we  when  the  delicate  creature  was  released  from  her  torments,  and 
we  watched  her  recovery  with  tender  love.  Since  then  I  think  that 
the  king  has  repented  of  his  harshness,  for  he  often  looks  kindly 
upon  her  and  does  not  require  such  heavy  tasks  from  her,  and  the 
queen  loves  her  like  a  sister. 

Poor  Sally  groaned  at  this  recitation,  thinking,  perhaps,  that  she 
was  the  maiden  in  question  as  she  had  often  made  such  resolutions. 

"  Sweet  Violetta,"  murmured  she,  "  if  it  is  upon  me  that  you  attend,' 
take  as  many  pins  as  you  please,  if  it  will  free  you  from  punish- 
ment." 

The  fairy  softly  glided  from  the  post  and  proceeded  to  the  toilet 
upon  her  plundering  expedition.  Successful  she  must  have  been,  for 


AND   OTHER    TALES.  2O/ 

Sally  saw  her  smile  upon  the  fairy  in  the  glass  with  quiet  approba- 
tion. 

"  Farewell,  little  lady,"  said  she  to  Sally ;  "  come  whenever  you 
choose  in  dream-life  to  our  fairy  land  and  you  will  be  welcome." 

Betty,  coming  in  to  say  that  breakfast  was  nearly  ready,  awoke  the 
sleeper,  and  the  fairy  had  disappeared,  although  Sally  had  formed 
many  plans  for  keeping  her  for  a  pet  in  an  old  bird-cage  which  she 
had.  She  dressed  herself  quickly  to  tell,  her  mamma  cheerfully  all 
that  had  happened  at  the  party,  and  as  she  descended  the  stairs  in 
her  white  morning  robe,  she  was  a  picture  of  purity  and  grace. 

"  O,  mamma,"  she  said,  "  I  had  such  a  delightful  time  last  night ; 
the  music  was  enchanting,  and  my  dress  so  neat  and  pretty  —  but 
the  supper !  O,  mamma,  you  should  have  seen  that !  It  was  so 
nice  that  I  am  afraid  I  eat  a  little  too  much,  for  I  had  such  a  queer 
dream,  and  Betty  said  that  she  heard  me  groan  just  before  she  woke 
me  this  morning." 

"  I  am  glad  that  you  enjoyed  yourself,  my  dear,"  said  her  mother, 
"  but  sorry  that  you  should  have  eaten  so  much.  I  thought  that  I 
had  warned  you  upon  that  point  quite  often  enough  ;  but,  Sally,  if  you 
looked  neatly  last  night,  that  is  not  exactly  the  character  that  I 
would  give  you  now,  for  your  dress  wants  a  pin  sadly,  and  I  fear  that 
I  have  none  to  offer  you.  It  is  not  a  month  since  I  bought  a  paper 
of  the  best  English ;  but  now  there  is  not  one  left.  I  know  that  I 
have  taken  them  out  myself;  but  then,  they  disappear  so  strangely. 
I  do  wonder  what  becomes  of  pins  ? " 

"  I  will  tell  you,  mamma,"  said  Sally,  clapping  her  hands.  And 
she  told  her  mother  about  the  Pin  Fairies. 


2O8  FAIRY-LAND 


THE   RICH    CHILD   AND   THE   POOR   CHILD. 

Why  do  you  look  so  white  and  wild  ? 
Your  eyes  so  blue  and  your  face  so  mild 
Are  full  of  the  traces  of  tears  and  wo,  — 
What  is  it  that  troubles  and  wearies  you  so, 
Little  child  ? 

I  thought  that  your  eyes  were  a  brilliant  blue, 
But  they  seem  to  fade  from  their  first  bright  hue  ; 
What  is  it  that  gives  you  that  haggard  air, 
Your  cheeks  are  as  pale  as  my  roses  fair, 

Poor  child ! 

Don't  tremble  so  ;  your  white,  thin  hand 
Is  cold  and  weak  as  you  shivering  stand ; 
Your  long  brown  hair  is  silvered  with  rain, 
And  you  fill  my  breast  with  wonder  and  pain, 

Dear  child ! 

Can  it  be  that  you're  hungry,  with  want  are  you  cold  ? 
Ah,  yes.     Poor  thing,  with  my  question  bold 
I  have  brought  a  blush  to  your  pale,  pale  cheek, 
And  your  lips  with  pleading  earnestness  speak, 
Tired  child  ! 

'Tis  a  sad,  sad  tale  of  woe  that  you  tell, 

But  my  mother  with  comforts  will  make  you  well ; 

She  will  feed  your  sister  who  sickly  lies, 

And  your  brother  who  almost  of  hunger  dies, 

Famished  child ! 

Why  glows  your  face  with  that  radiance  bright  ? 
Your  small  hands,  why  are  they  clasped  so  tight  ? 
Who  has  wiped-the  tears  from  your  tender  eyes, 
And  scared  from  your  breast  those  long-drawn  sighs, 

Gentle  child  ? 

You  say  'tis  our  kindness  to  yours  and  to  you, 
That  our  gifts  will  clothe  you  and  feed  you  too  ; 
Say  rather,  'tis  GOD  who  THROUGH  us  has  given, 
And  let  your  sweet  thanks  rise  from  earth  to  heaven, 

Happy  child  ! 


AND   OTHER    TALES.  2OQ 


THE  MOUSE  WHO  WENT  TO  SEE  THE  WORLD. 

A  MOUSE  and  her  mother,  Mrs.  Silverskin  Mouse,  lived  in  a  closet 
remote  from  cities,  where  they  had  plenty  of  cheese  to  eat  and  the 
nicest  white  bread.  Then  for  dessert  they  had  apples  and  nuts, 
and  very  often  they  gave  large  country  parties,  inviting  the  mice  for 
miles  around,  and  they  treated  them,  especially  at  Christmas,  with 
mince  pies  and  other  dainties  which  people  usually  have  at  that 
time,  and  on  thanksgiving  days  they  eat  so  much  at  their  family 
dinner  parties  that  really  it  was  rather  uncomfortable  to  themselves 
than  otherwise.  Viewing  the  whole  matter  at  this  distance,  one  feels 
inclined  to  ask  "  what  more  could  mice  want  ?  "  but  strange  to  say, 
Miss  Jeteye  (that  was  the  name  of  Mrs.  Silverskin's  daughter) 
languished  to  see  more  of  life  and  the  wide,  wide  world ;  languished 
for  a  broader  experience  than  a  country  closet,  and  pined  for  more 
extensive  views  of  society  at  large  ;  so  she  took  to  fits  of  melan- 
choly, and  the  better  to  attract  her  mother's  attention,  eat  little,  slept 
less,  and  was  generally  to  be  found  moping  in  corners,  with  her  fair 
head  resting  upon  her  paw  in  an  attitude  of  deep  dejection.  Her 
mother  at  first  did  not  regard  these  words,  and  thought  that  they 
would  pass  away  like  cheese  before  a  hungry  mouse,  or  mist  before 
the  morning  sun  ;  but  one  day,  when  Miss  Jeteye  positively  refused 
a  slice  of  toasted  bread  made  palatable  by  the  nicest  butter  in  the 
universe,  her  mother  went  up  to  her  and  said,  carelessly,  — 

"  My  dear,  what  is  the  matter  with  you  ?  Is  the  butter  not  to 
your  liking  ?  are  the  raisins  in  this  pie  not  properly  stoned  ?  is  the 
cheese  too  strong  ?  Tell  me,  my  darling,  pride  of  my  life,  what  ails 
you  ? " 

"  Mother,"  said  Miss  Jeteye,  suddenly  and  passionately  ;  "  none 
of  these  things  affects'me.  I  want  to  travel ;  I  want  to  see  King  and 
14 


210  FAIRY-LAND 


Queen  Mouse  and  Lord  Long  Whiskers  and  Lady  Soft  Skin,  who 
make  such  a  noise  in  fashionable  life  ;  and  then  I  hear  that  there  is 
such  cheese  in  the  royal  palace  !  O,  mother,  I  must  see  the  world ! 
Won't  you  let  me  go  ?  Don't  say  no,  best  of  mothers  ;  nobody  ever 
wanted  so  much  to  see  the  world.  Isn't  it  a  very  large  place, 
mother  ? " 

"  O,  my  child,"  said  the  old  lady  mouse,  seriously,  "  don't,  don't 
go  there  !  It  is  a  place  full  of  trouble,  and  traps  lie  all  about  for 
the  careless  and  unwary ;  and  then  you  will  break  my  heart  if  you 
leave  me  here  alone,  with  no  company.  An  individual  at  my  time 
of  life  is  sadly  dependent  upon  cheerful  society,  such  as  yours,  my 
dear.  No,  you  must  never  leave  the  domestic  hearth ! " 

So  when  Jeteye  saw  that  Mrs.  Silverskin  was  weeping  bitterly,  she 
promised  her  solemnly  that  she  would  not  leave  her ;  but  the  de-; 
ceitful  little  thing  was  not  telling  the  truth;  for  she  meant  some  day, 
not  very  far  off,  to  go  and  look  for  the  world  ;  and  that  night  she 
dreamed  that  she  went  on  her  travels,  and  was  everywhere  praised 
for  her  grace  and  beauty,  and  that  King  and  Queen  Mouse  invited 
her  to.  a  select  dinner  party.  "  Surely,"  said  she  to  herself,  when 
she  awoke,  "  this  dream  will  come  to  pass  ;  it  shall  come  to  pass  ; 
I  leave  this  closet  to-day"  So  she  arranged  every  hair  of  her  soft 
gray  fur  to  her  satisfaction,  and  went  to  say  a  few  words  to  her 
mother,  who  unfortunately  was  not  well,  having  eaten  a  thought  too 
much  of  rich  plum  cake. 

"  Mother,"  she  said,  softly,  "  I'm  sorry  to  see  you  indisposed,  but 
I  hope  that  you  will  be  better  when  I  return  ;  I'm  going  to  take  a 
short  walk,  as  I  need  exercise,  and  will  be  back  directly." 

"  Don't  go  far,  Jeteye,"  said  her  mother  ;  "  don't  go  beyond  the 
store-room,  my  child." 

"  Not  for  the  world  I"  was  the  deceitful  answer;  and  shaking 
her  parent's  paw,  she  departed.  She  couldn't  help  looking  back 
once  or  twice,  for,  said  she  to  herself,  "  my  mother  grows  aged,  and 


AND   OTHER    TALES.  211 

I  may  never  see  her  again."  Then  a  few  salt  tears  dropped  from 
her  eyes,  but  she  wiped  them  away  suddenly  with  the  tip  end  of  her 
polished  tail,  for  she  saw  Squire  Long  Ears,  another  mouse,  coming 
along. 

"  Where  are  you  going,  Miss  Jeteye  ?  "  he  said. 

"Only  to  see  the  world,"  said -she. 

"  I  will  go  with  you  to  the  ends  of  the  earth,"  said  he,  and  away 
they  went  together. 

They  had  a  rough,  hard  journey,  and  perils  not  a  few  ;  and  often 
they  lost  their  way,  and  had  to  eat  most  miserable  and  unwholesome 
food.  One  day,  when  they  were  eating  some  lunch  in  a  fine  pantry, 
which  they  took  for  a  tavern,  Miss  Mouse  had  the  misfortune  to  fall 
into  a  jar  of  sweetmeats.  She  thought  that  she  was  dying,  and 
moaned  so  piteously  that  Squire  Long  Ears  was  almost  mad  with 
grief  and  consternation ;  but  eventually  he  encouraged  her  with  many 
a  cheering  word,  though  he  could  give  her  no  help  in  her  critical 
situation  ;  and  at  last  he  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  her  climb 
upon  a  very  large  preserved  peach  and  then  out  of  the  jar,  trailing 
along  after  her  a  line  of  best  clarified  syrup,  until  they  gained  a 
safe  hiding-place.  There  they  had  to  wait  several  days,  for  Miss 
Mouse  would  on  no  account  consent  to  travel  until  her  skin  had 
become  soft  and  clean  again ;  and  during  this  time  they  felt  the 
greatest  terror,  for  a  big  black  cat,  with  green  eyes,  often  looked 
lovingly  into  the  hole  where  they  had  taken  refuge.  At  length,  one 
day  when  he  was  absent,  they. fled  and  went  on  still  farther  in  their 
travels  to  see  the  world.  But  fate  seemed  determined  not  to  let 
them  go  along  peaceably,  and  they  met,  before  many  days  had 
passed,  with  another  sad  adventure.  Quite  tired  and  hungry,  they 
went  one  night  into  another  tavern  to  get  something  to  eat ;  and 
after  they  had  helped  themselves  largely,  they  spied  a  tempting  bar- 
rel of  flour,  in  which  they  thought  they  might  obtain  a  long  rest,  and 
be  ready  for  their  journey  again  the  next  night.  But  alas !  no  sooner 


212  FAIRY-LAND 


had  they  ensconced  themselves  comfortably  in  their  new  quarters, 
than  they  were  awakened  by  the  voice  of  a  giant  rat,  who  asked 
them  what  they  were  doing  in  his  flour-barrel.  He  called  them  very 
hard  names,  and  used  very  coarse  language  ;  and  in  his  fury  bit  off 
a  long  piece  of  Squire  Long  Ears'  elegant  tail ;  and  then,  to  add 
insult  to  injury,  ordered  them  out  of  his  domains,  thus  forever  put- 
ting a  blot  upon  the  white  page  of  rat  hospitality. 

Mortified  and  hurt,  Squire  Long  Ears  said  that  he  could  not 
think  of  travelling  in  that  plight,  for  a  tailless  mouse  would  never  be 
respected  at  court,  and  he  begged  Jeteye  to  go  back  again  to  her 
home  with  him,  especially  as  she  had  met  with  such  formidable 
dangers  ;  but  she  said  no,  —  that  she  would  not  be  faint-hearted 
now  ;  that  she  thought  the  royal  residence  must  be  so  near  ;  and  as 
she  had  come  so  far,  and  being  of  a  romantic  turn  of  mind,  she  sug- 
gested that  she  might  fare  even  better  without  than  with  the  Squire, 
as  no  one  would  think  of  molesting  unprotected  innocence,  and  a 
protector  might  be  raised  up  to  her  at  every  turn.  Then  she  re- 
membered that  the  young  ladies  in  whose  house  she  lived  in  the 
country  spoke  in  such  raptures  of  the  world,  and  went  out  to  it  and 
returned  in  so  short  a  time,  and  painted  such  glowing  pictures  of  its 
fascinations,  that  bidding  Mr.  Long  Ears  farewell,  she  turned  her 
pretty  head  away  and  went  on  alone.  "  Alone  !  "  she  had  not  to 
repeat  that  cheerless  word  long  before  she  thought  she  knew  that 
she  had  arrived  at  the  end  of  her  venturesome  journey.  It  was  in 
a  grocer's  store  that  she  arrived  at  this  proper  conclusion.  "At 
last,"  she  exclaimed,  raising  her  fine  eyes  in  an  ecstasy,  "  my  dream 
is  realized  !  "  As  she  uttered  these  words,  she  was  conscious  of 
being  gazed  at  by  a  splendid  mouse  with  most  regal  whiskers,  whom 
she  recognized  at  once  as  King  Mouse,  and  close  behind  his  king- 
ship appeared  another  of  the  softer  sex,  whose  sumptuous  aspect 
declared  her  at  once  to  be  the  queen.  She  told  them  what  she 
thought,  expressing  at  the  same  time  great  admiration  of  their 


AND   OTHER    TALES.  21$ 


majesties  and  their  palace  ;  and  after  telling  her  that  she  was  quite 
right,  and  whispering  to  each  other  that  from  her  appearance  she 
must  be  "somebody,"  perhaps  some  country  heiress,  they  invited 
her  to  take  up  her  abode  with  them  for  a  season  and  visit  their 
court. 

Imagination  is  too  poor  to  paint  how  her  little  heart  beat  at  these 
words.  "  Now,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  I  am  thought  of  as  I  deserve  ; 
my  beauty  is  admired,  and  I  shall  be  a  countess,  may  be  ;  and  then  I 
shall  send  for  my  mother  (who  must  be  polished  up,  by  the  way,  be- 
fore she  comes  to  court,  her  ways  and  looks  are  so  old-fashioned)  • 
and  won't  she  be  astonished  to  see  how  high  I  have  risen  in  the 
world  ! 

The  king  gave  a  ball  that  might  do  honor  to  the  distinguished 
stranger,  and  much  company  there  was.  The  most  delicate  fare  was 
.offered  to  the  charming  young  guest,  who  swept  through  the  hall 
with  such  enchanting  grace ;  in  fact,  so  much  attention  was  never 
before  paid  to  a  foreigner ;  for  at  that  court  they  were  naturally  sus- 
picious of  foreigners,  as  they  had  rumors  of  attention  being  paid  in 
neighboring  palaces  to  strangers,  which  were  ridiculed  by  the  guests 
upon  their  return  to  their  own  country,  and  this  made  them  very 
cautious  of  being  treated  in  the  same  way.  But  suspicions  vanished 
in  the  presence  of  Miss  Jeteye.  The  courtiers  wished  to  claim  the 
honor  of  her  hand,  and  even  the  king  danced  with  her  in  a  new 
court  polka,  and  made  poetry  to  her  fine  eyes ;  while  the  queen  could 
not  but  look  with  admiration  upon  her  feet,  which  she  said  were  the 
smallest  she  ever  saw,  and  a  sure  sign  of  her  being  high  born. 
Then  she  had  such  a  confident,  self-satisfied  air,  that  they  came  to 
the  conclusion  that  she  was  no  country  Miss,  and  therefore  they 
neglected  to  tell  her,  in  fact  they  thought  it  would  be  in  rather  bad 
taste  to  tell  one  so  experienced,  of  the  dangers  she  would  be  apt  to 
meet  with,  and  she  was  too  silly  and  proud  to  let  them  know  that 
she  had  lived  in  the  country  all  her  life.  Alas  !  poor  Jeteye  ! 


214  FAIRY-LAND 


After  a  most  delightful  supper  upon  all  the  dainties  in  creation, 
and  at  an  unusually  late  hour,  the  guests  departed  and  the  royal 
party  retired  to  rest.  The  queen  pointed  out  to  her  ladyship,  as 
she  called  Jeteye,  her  apartment,  and  desired  two  maids  of  honor  to 
attend  to  any  of  her  wants  ;  and  after  having  dismissed  them  with 
many  gracious  words,  she  felt  curious  to  investigate  her  apartment 
of  state,  as  the  queen  had  named  it.  It  was  in  a  snug  little  corner 
behind  a  box  of  prunes,  westward  of  a  jar  of  sweetmeats,  and  east- 
ward of  a  box  of  fresh  Italian  biscuits,  a  delicacy  just  introduced 
into  the  royal  residence.  "  You  will  find  this  apartment  most  con- 
venient," remarked  her  majesty  to  Jeteye,  when  she  had  designated 
her  place  of  rest,  "  and  it  even  has  an  advantage  over  the  royal  apart- 
ment, inasmuch  as  you  will  observe  that  it  has  two  entrances.  Should 
you  hear  any  noise  indicative  of  robbery  or  intrusion,  remember 
this  fact ;  there  will  always  be  safety  in  one  of  these  outlets  ;  so 
good  night,  your  ladyship  ;  sleep  well ;  and  remember,  don't  be  too 
fascinating  on  the  morrow,  for,"  added  she,  playfully,  "you  have 
turned  the  heads  of  half  my  court,  and  I  must  begin  to  look  to  my 
honors." 

So,  as  I  said  before,  the  young  lady  began  to  look  about  to  see 
the  curiosities  of  a  palace  chamber.  She  did  not  see  anything 
extraordinary  therein ;  she  did  not  see  any  elegance  in  that  close 
place  behind  that  rough  box  of  prunes.  If  she  became  hungry  in 
the  night,  there  was  nothing  there  for  her  to  eat,  for  she  could  not, 
from  old  associations,  abide  sweetmeats,  particularly  peaches ;  and 
biscuits  were  too  common  for  her  refined  lips  ;  and  then,  not  far  off 
were  a  low  set  of  common  mice,  who  might  be  there  for  the  purpose 
of  keeping  guard  ;  but  they  made  such  a  noise  with  their  eternally 
nibbling  the  remains  of  the  feast,  that  it  was  impossible  for  her  lady- 
ship to  get  a  wink  of  sleep.  She  preferred  the  country  for  one 
thing,  —  its  quiet ;  and  so  she  put  her  graceful  head  out  of  one  of 
the  entrances  to  see  if  possibly  the  queen  might  not  have  made  a 


AND   OTHER    TALES.  21$ 


mistake,  and  have  put  her  in  the  wrong  apartment.  She  had  no 
sooner  done  this,  than  her  bright  eyes  spied  the  prettiest  little  con- 
trivance in  the  shape  of  a  sleeping  room  imaginable.  She  thought 
that  it  was  a  love  of  a  place,  the  most  curious  work  of  art  that  she 
had  yet  seen  on  her  travels ;  and  now  she  felt  certain  that  the  queen, 
really  had  made  a  mistake  ;  so  she  determined,  instead  of  having 
them  mortified  to  death  the  next  morning  by  hearing  that  she  had 
slept  behind  that  plebeian  box  of  prunes,  to  take  possession  of  this 
treasure  of  a  dormitory  at  once. 

"  How  pretty  it  is,"  she  said,  softly ;  "  I  have  never  seen  anything 
exactly  like  it  before ;  those  arched  wires  are  so  graceful,  and  that 
cupola  on  its  top  suits  the  style  so  well  ;  then  what  a  charming 
entrance  it  has ;  and,  as  I  live,  the  royal  family  have  honored  me 
by  placing  within  a  slice  of  the  best  English  cheese."  And  in  my 
lady  went,  quite  delighted  with  her  new  quarters. 

However,  she  did  not  quite  like  the  "  click  "  which  met  her  ears 
as  she  entered,  and  a  far  off  vision  of  her  childhood  came  across  her, 
almost  as  indistinct  as  a  dream,  of  a  story  told  her  by  an  old  uncle 
on  her  mother's  side,  of  a  thing  called  a  trap,  into  which  he  had 
been  imprisoned  by  accident,  and  from  which  he  had  escaped  with 
difficulty.  This  little  adventure,  she  remembered,  had  been  accom- 
panied with  the  loss  of  his  tail ;  and  in  telling  his  story,  he  had 
always  dwelt  forcibly,  and  with  a  kind  of  spiteful  malice,  upon  the 
"  click  "  which  did  the  mischief ;  but  after  all,  that  was  not  in  a 
royal  palace,  and  her  uncle  had  seen  nothing  of  the  world  ;  and  in 
the  cheese,  which  was  most  delicious,  she  forgot  her  terror,  and 
having  partaken  largely  of  it,  she  went  quietly  to  sleep,  thinking 
what  a  fascinating  thing  an  apartment  of  state  was. 

How  long  she  slept  I  know  not,  but  she  was  awakened  by  a  sound 
which  she  thought  seemed  familiar,  and,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  not 
entirely  agreeable  to  her  under  her  present  circumstances.  That 
familiar  sound  was  her  mother's  voice,  and  it  said,  "  My  daughter, 


2l6  FAIRY-LAND 


O,  my  daughter  !  how  cruel  you  were  to  leave  me  !  I  have  come 
to  take  you  back  to  our  secure  and  quiet  home." 

"  Indeed,  mamma,"  said  the  spoiled  maiden,  "  you  might  have 
spared  yourself  that  trouble.  I  dare  say  that  that  vulgar  fellow, 
Long  Ears,  sent  you  after  me.  But  it  is  of  no  use  ;  I  find  the  world 
so  pleasant,  that  I  am  never  going  to  return.  But,  my  dear  mother, 
your  dress  inspires  me  with  feelings  of  horror,  and  your  tone  is 
excessively  drawling  and  countrified ;  then  you  want  polish  sadly. 
Oh,  what  is  to  be  done  !  Was  there  ever  a  being  so  tried,  so 
straitened  as  I  !  The  king  is  most  particular  as  regards  pedigree, 
and  none  but  aristocrats  in  decent  appearance  have  entrance  into 
this  court  My  unfortunate  mother,  pray  step  into  my  chamber,  and 
at  least  try  to  make  yourself  presentable  ;  or,  perhaps,  I  might  offer 
one  other  suggestion  to  which  you  would  not  object.  Could  you 
not,  could  you  not  return  at  once,  my  dearest  parent,  to  your  much 
prized  '  quiet  home  ?  ' ' 

Jeteye's  dearest  parent  drew  nearer,  to  see  if  it  was  indeed  her 
gentle  and  obedient  daughter  who  thus  addressed  her  ;  and  who 
can  describe  that  mother's  feelings  when  she  saw  her  child's  situa- 
tion. She  was  speechless  for  a  moment  with  fright  and  horror,  and 
then,  in  her  anguish,  she  exclaimed,  "  Mistaken  child,  how  came 
you  here  ?  Do  you  know  ?  Ah  !  you  cannot  be  aware  of  your  fate  ! 
That  luxurious  chamber,  that  fretted  dome,  that  classic  entrance,  is 
a  trap  ! " 

Ah  !  there  was  no  misunderstanding  that  frantic  mother's  words, 
and  in  an  instant  flashed  upon  Jeteye  the  truth.  She  remembered 
her  mother's  long  years  of  experience  ;  she  thought  of  the  sad  story 
of  that  tailless  uncle  on  that  mother's  side.  She  suddenly  awoke 
to  the  full  reality  of  her  situation.  She  was  wild  with  terror  !  She 
bit  her  wire  prison-bounds ;  she  hurt  her  head  against  the  hard 
steel ;  she  tore  the  skin  from  her  delicate  form  in  trying  to  get  out 
where  she  got  in.  She  made  the  circuit  of  her  wiry  cage  one  hun- 


AND  O  THER   TALES.  2 1 7 


dred  times,  and  she  called  upon  her  mother,  in  piteous  tones,  to 
release  her.  But  what  could  her  parent  do  ?  Nothing  but  bewail 
and  lament  over  her  future  solitary  life  in  her  quiet  country  habita- 
tion ;  nothing  but  wring  her  fore-feet  and  cry  aloud  about  that  place 
called  home,  to  which  pleasures  and  palaces  are  as  a  drop  to  the 
ocean  ;  and  wheresoe'r  an  individual  may  roam  there  is  no  place 
like  it.  Occasionally  she  would  break  out  into  a  wail,  the  burden 
of  whose  song  was  an  aggravating,  "  I  told  you  so ! "  which  cut 
Jeteye  to  the  very  heart.  But  even  mother  mice  have  a  law  of  self- 
preservation  ;  and  when  the  first  streak  of  daylight  appeared,  Mrs. 
Silverskin  Mouse  disappeared,  after  casting  one  passionate  look  of 
anguish  and  regret  upon  her  forlorn  and  exhausted  offspring. 

"  Oh,  ho  !  "  said  Mr.  Storekeeper,  as  he  opened  his  doors  at  sun- 
rise, and  took  up  his  trap  to  see  if  it  contained  any  of  those  dis- 
agreeable customers  called  mice  ;  "  here  is  a  fine,  fat,  sleek  intruder. 
This  is  the  last  time,  my  friend,  that  you  will  come  stealing  my 
stores.  Here,  Dick,,  take  the  vile  creature  to  the  pump  and  drown 
it  speedily,  and  be  sure  you  set  the  trap  again  for  other  poachers. 
'Tis  a  nice,  gentle-eyed  thing,  though,  and  the  prettiest  little  animal 
I  ever  saw  ;  it  is  almost  a  pity  to  have  it  drowned.  However,  who- 
ever thought  of  pitying  a  mouse  ?  Yes,  a  mouse  j  the  little  thief. 
Here,  Dick,  don't  let  it  suffer  a  minute  more  than  you  can  help,  — 
but  go  it  must !  Everybody  must  take  care  of  himself,  or  there 
would  be  no  getting  along  in  the  world." 

"  Alas  !  the  world  !  "  sighed  Jeteye. 

Those  were  her  last  words. 


218 


FAIRY-LAND 


NICE    HABITS. 


Bathe  your  body 

Every  day, 
Put  your  clothes  with 

Care  away. 


With  a  penknife 
Your  nails  pare, 

Clean  them  nicely 
With  due  care. 


In  the  morn  and 
Evening  too, 

I  will  tell  you 
What  to  do. 


You  must  brush  your 
Teeth  so  white, 

And  you'll  keep  them 
Clean,  and  bright 


Wear  an  apron 
When  you  eat, 

And  sit  upright 
On  your  seat 


Speak  no  harsh  nor 
Wicked  word, 

No  cross  answer 
Should  be  heard. 


Love  your  brothers, 

Sisters  too, 
And  they  always 

Will  love  you. 

8. 

Be  to  servants 

Ever  kind, 
And  your  every 

Word  they'll  mind. 


Ne'er  forget,  each 
Night  and  day, 

With  gentle  voice 
Your  prayer  to  say. 

10. 

If  you  always 

These  things  do, 
Every  body 

Will  love  you. 


Ne'er  forget  each  night  and  day 

With  gentle  voice  your  prayers  to  say. 


P.,  ~n    O1S. 


AND   OTHER    TALES.  2 19 

BAD  TEMPER  AND  ITS  CURE. 

HALF    FACT,    HALF    FICTION. 


CHAPTER   I. 
THE  GOOD  AND  EVIL  SPIRIT. 

"  THERE,  I  told  you  so  !  You  have  at  last  let  my  beautiful  glass 
peacock  fall  upon  the  floor,  and  it  is  broken  into  ten*  thousand 
pieces  !  you  little,  worrying,  bad,  mean,  disagreeable  girl,  you  !  " 

Would  you  believe  that  Florence  Somers  said  these  words  to  her 
little  sister  Ellen  ?  Scarcely,  and  yet  it  was  so.  How  could  such  a 
refined-looking  girl  utter  such  words  ?  I  will  tell  you  all  about  it. 
Florence  had  put  her  peacock  on  the  table,  and  had  told  Ellen  not 
to  touch  it ;  but  then,  little  children  are  very  curious,  and  Ellen  took 
it  up,  when,  alas  !  it  fell  to  the  ground. 

Florence  was  lying  on  the  sofa  at  the  time,  reading  a  book  of 
fairy  tales,  and  no  one  could  have  desired  to  see  a  more  charming 
picture  than  she  was.  Her  face  was  bright  with  pleasure  and  her 
hands  as  white  and  soft  as  an  infant's  ;  her  cheeks  were  colored 
with  red  and  her  lips  redder  than  her  cheeks ;  and  there  was  no 
denying  that  she  was  in  reality  perfect  in  face  and  form.  But,  alas  ! 
all  this  beauty  did  her  no  good,  gained  her  no  admiration  from  those 
who  knew  her,  for  it  was  marred  by  the  worst  temper  that  ever  was 
known.  It  made  every  one  in  the  house  miserable  ;  it  made  her 
dear  mother  often  weep  bitter  tears  in  the  silence  of  the  night,  and 
her  father  wished  to  send  her  away  to  a  boarding-school  in  order  to 
have  her  out  of  his  sight ;  and  it  made  the  servants  dislike  her  and 
shrink  from  the  fiery  flash  of  her  eyes  ;  and  her  poor  little  sister 
and  brother,  whom  she  should  have  loved  and  cherished,  were 


2  2O  FAIR  Y-LAND 


never  comfortable  in  her  presence,  but  always  dreaded  some  out- 
burst of  passion  from  Florence,  which  would  send  them  away  from 
her  terribly  frightened. 

Thus,  when  the  peacock  fell,  out  came  the  thunder  of  her  wrath- 
ful voice  upon  Ellen  ;  and  going  to  the  poor,  trembling  child,  she 
first  shook  her  violently  and  then  struck  her  twice,  bidding  her  pick 
up  the  pieces,  which  the  little  creature  did  as  well  as  she  could,  and 
then  she  thrust  her  violently  from  the  room. 

After  she  left,  Florence  paced  the  room  with  an  angry  flush  upon 
her  lovely  face. 

"  What*  is  the  use  of  little  children  ?  "  she  said,  aloud  ;  "  they  are 
always  in  the  way  and  should  never  be  allowed  to  leave  the  nursery; 
everything  I  have  is  ruined  by  them  ;  and  now,  to  crown  all,  that 
busy-body  Ellen  has  broken  my  beautiful  glass  peacock.  I  don't 
think  she  cares  about  it  much,  either  ;  but  I'll  make  her  care,  that 
I  will ;  and  I'll  break  her  Bohemian  tumbler  to-morrow,  just  to  let 
her  know  how  it  feels  to  have  what  one  most  cares  for  destroyed." 
And  with  this  cruel  determination,  Florence  lay  again  upon  the  sofa 
and  opened  once  more  her  book  of  fairy  tales.  She  had  just 
reached  that  place  in  Bluebeard  where  he  gave  his  wife  the  key  of 
the  closet  and  told  her  not  to  enter  it  upon  pain  of  death,  when  the 
book  slid  from  her  dimpled  hand,  and  she  fell  asleep.  She  had  not 
slept  long,  when  she  was  awakened  by  a  strange  sensation  in  each 
hand  ;  that  on  her  right  hand  was  soft  and  cooling,  like  the  fall  of 
dew  upon  a  rose-leaf ;  that  in  her  left  was  as  if  melted  lead  .were 
being  poured  upon  it  in  hot  and  heavy  drops.  She  opened  wide 
her  drowsy  eyes,  and  holding  up  her  hands  to  see  what  possibly 
could  be  the  matter,  she  beheld  a  strange  little  being  standing  in 
each  palm  and  looking  into  her  face.  She  tried  to  shake  them  off 
in  vain  ;  and  after  her  first  fright  was  over,  she  became  quite  angry 
and  said  some  very  rude  things  to  her  new  visitors.  Just  in  propor- 
tion as  her  temper  increased,  so  did  the  sharp  pain  in  the  left  hand 


AND   OTHER    TALES.  221 

increase  ;  and  when  she  found  that  anger  produced  no  effect,  she 
softened  her  voice  and  said,  courteously :  "  Well,  little  people,  what 
on  earth  brings  you  here  and  who  and  what  are  you  ?  "  As  she 
said  these  words,  softly  and  gently,  she  was  conscious  that  the  pain 
in  her  left  hand  subsided,  and  that  the  gentle  pressure  in  the  right 
was  stronger  than  before. 

At  length  the  individual  (if  such  he  might  be  called)  in  her  left 
hand  spoke  his  mission.  Never  was  there  so  hideous  a  being 
created.  He  was  only  about  as  long  as  Florence's  little  finger,  and 
yet  she  could  not,  for  his  very  ugliness,  look  at  him.  His  hair  was 
flaming  fire  ;  his  forehead  like  that  of  an  old  man,  all  wrinkled  and 
marked  with  sin  and  woe ;  his  nose  shapeless,  and  his  mouth,  as  he 
opened  it,  was  full  of  small  snakes.  Out  of  his  eyes  came  a  dis- 
agreeable green  fire,  and  he  had  four  hands  of  different  colors,  in 
each  of  which  he  held  a  looking-glass,  which  magnified  his  own 
terrible  image,  and  his  feet  were  turned  backward  and  shaped  like 
the  claws  of  a  bird.  But  when  he  spoke,  horrors !  how  Florence 
shuddered  ;  it  was  as  if  her  ear  had  been  pierced  with  the  scraping 
of  a  knife  upon  rough  glass,  and  the  sound  of  it  amounted  to  a 
pain. 

"  I  come,  maiden,"  he  said,  "  to  wait  upon  you  ;  and  I  am  happy 
to  be  in  your  service,  for  you  are  the  most  beautiful  mortal  in  the 
world.  But  while  you  are  outwardly  so  very  fair,  I  claim  you  to  be 
my  sister ;  for  in  your  heart  you  are  just  what  you  see  me,  —  a 
demon.  I  am  the  prince  of  my  tribe  and  Bad  Temper  is  my  name  ; 
I  attend  you  ever  ;  and  in  future  you  will_/fe/my  presence  whenever 
your  unfortunate  fault,  which  makes  me  your  brother,  overmasters 
you  ;  for  I  shall  always  be  with  you  in  the  same  manner  in  which 
you  knew  of  my  presence  a  while  since,  more  or  less  according  to 
your  mood." 

Then  Florence  experienced  the  sensation  again,  as  if  a  hot  iron 
were  searing  her  hand  ;  and  she  would  have  screamed  with  pain, 


222  FAIRY-LAND 


had  not  the  flute-like  voice  of  the  little  creature  who  occupied  her 
right  hand  arrested  him  in  the  midst  of  his  torture. 

"Demon,  desist,"  she  said,  softly;  "you  have  given  evidence 
enough  of  your  power." 

"  Oh,  what  a  relief  it  was  to  Florence  to  see  the  mild  eyes  of  that 
gentle  being  turned  reproachfully  upon  the  hideous  dwarf  monster  ; 
she  felt  as  if  she  had  one  friend  in  the  world,  and  was  not  utterly 
forsaken. 

"  Hear  me,  Florence,"  she  said  ;  "  I  am  the  queen  of  Good  Na- 
ture and  Self-Conquest  j  this  crescent  on  my  brow  betokens  mild- 
ness ;  these  white  robes,  purity ;  these  tears,  which  flow  for  those  I 
love,  repentance.  I  have  a  powerful  enemy  in  the  demon  Bad  Tem- 
per ;  we  are  fighting  a  hard  fight ;  one  of  us  must  conquer  even 
unto  death.  The  seat  of  that  fight,  Florence,  is  in  your  heart. 
What  is  the  use  of  your  beauty  unless  you  have  good  inward  gifts  ? 
It  cannot  make  you  happy  when  you  know  that  over  it  all  that 
frightful  wretch  has  such  power.  Then  listen  :  whenever  you  allow 
the  fiend  of  bad  temper  to  overcome  you  as  you  did  to-day,  upon 
your  left  hand  you  will  feel  his  burning  presence  ;  whenever  you 
subdue  an  evil  thought,  check  a  bad  impulse,  repent  of  violence,  or 
restrain  yourself  from  doing  wrong,  you  will  feel  my  gentle  presence 
in  your  right  hand.  Farewell.  When  you  desire  my  aid,  call  upon 
me  and  I  shall  be  near  to  protect  you." 

Then  the  strange  shapes  seemed  to  melt  away  into  the  air,  and 
Florence  fell  again  into  a  deep  sleep  and  did  not  wake  until  she  heard 
the  voice  of  her  little  brother  calling  her  to  take  her  afternoon  walk. 

"  Have  I  been  dreaming  or  not  ? "  she  said  to  herself;  how  real 
seemed  those  two  little  shapes  upon  my  hands.  Oh,  of  course,  it  was 
a  dream !  and  yet  it  was  so  vivid,  that  if  I  had  not  been  asleep,  I 
could  almost  fancy  it  to  have  been  true.  What  strange  sleeping 
visions  people  have  sometimes !  and  mine  just  now  was  passing 
strange  ! " 


AND   OTHER    TALES.  22$ 

Then  she  went  up  into  her  own  pretty  little  room  and  smoothed 
her  glossy  ringlets,  smiling  at  herself  the  while  in  her  mirror  ;  and 
she  looked  so  lovely  and  pure,  that  her  brother  kissed  her  sweet 
lips  and  told  her  always  to  look  thus  ;  and  her  mother  wondered 
that  such  beauty  was  ever  disfigured  by  passion  and  frowns. 


CHAPTER   II. 

THE  GLASS  TUMBLER. 

FLORENCE  did  not  forget  that  Ellen  had  broken  her  glass  peacock ; 
she  never  forgot  anything  which  she  thought  was  an  injury  ;  her  re-% 
venge  was  not  hasty,  but  deliberate,  and  she  waited  for  a  fitting 
opportunity  to  indulge  it.  One  evening  Ellen  told  her  with  great 
glee,  that  a  little  friend  was  coming  to  take  tea  with  her,  and  that 
her  mother  had  promised  her  a  pitcher  of  lemonade,  which  was  to 
be  served  out  in  her  little  glass  tumbler. 

"  Now  is  my  time,"  she  muttered  between  her  white  teeth  ;  "  your 
tumbler  will  not  hold  much  lemonade  to-night."  But  suddenly  she 
remembered  her  dream ;  and  as  she  thought  of  it,  she  felt  a  little 
frightened  at  the  memory.  "After  all,  suppose  I  let  her  off  this 
time  ?  Yes,  I  think  I  shall.  Perhaps  she  did  not  mean-  to  break 
my  peacock ;  but  when  you  trouble  me  again,  my  little  lady,  woe  be 
unto  you  and  your  glass  tumbler." 

So  Ellen  and  her  friend  had  their  lemonade  in  peace,  and  Flor- 
ence became  interested  in  their  happiness  and  even  helped  to  make 
it,  and  to  show  them  how  to  strain  the  lemon  seeds  from  the  liquid ; 
and  all  the  time  that  she  was  so  busied,  there  was  a  cool,  soothing 
sensation  in  her  right  hand,  which  she  could  liken  to  nothing  but  a 
fairy's  kisses  ;  and  it  seemed  to  her  as  if  she  had  felt  the  same 
before. 

Her  cheerfulness  made  her  surpassingly  beautiful  on  that  even- 


224  FAIRY-LAND 


ing ;  and  little  Ellen's  friend  went  home  very  happy  and  told  her 
mother  what  a  good  sister  Florence  was,  and  how  she  wished  for 
one  just  like  her.  Alas  !  she  wished  too  soon.  At  another  time 
she  would  have  fled  far,  far  from  her  presence. 


CHAPTER    III. 

THE   PARTY. 

FOR  many  days  Florence  was  all  that  her  parents  could  wish, 
'and  they  were  so  delighted  with  her  amiable  conduct,  that  they 
determined  to  reward  her  with  a  birth-night  party.  Invitations 
were  sent  to  the  children  ;  and  as  the  evening  was  bright,  they  all 
came,  and  no  pains  were  spared  to  please  the  little  guests. 

The  supper  was  delightful,  and  upon  the  table,  in  elegant  order, 
were  all  good  things  ;  and  at  each  end  of  the  well  provided  board 
stood  Florence  and  Ellen. 

Now  they  had  a  good  uncle  who  loved  Florence  very  much  ;  and 
while  they  were  busy  enjoying  the  nice  things,  in  came  the  old  gen- 
tleman, accompanied  by  a  servant,  who  bore  upon  a  silver  tray 
something  covered  with  a  white  napkin. 

Everybody  of  course  was  delighted  to  see  Uncle  Phil  ;  and  he 
went  round  and  shook  hands  with  the  forty  children,  twenty  girls 
and  twenty  boys,  and  he  looked  as  delighted  as  they  did.  Then 
the  old  gentleman  turned  round  towards  the  silver  tray,  and  there 
was  a  deep  pause  when  he  spoke. 

"  I  wanted  to  make  you  happier  even  than  you  appear  to  be, 
little  people,"  he  said,  in  a  low  voice  ;  "  and  so  I  have  brought  you 
a  splendid  cake  with  a  diamond  ring  in  it  for  the  little  girls.  It  is 
to  be  cut  in  twenty  pieces,  and  the  one  who  gets  the  piece  with  the 
ring  in  it,  to  her  it  shall  belong.  Then  I  have  in  my  hand  here  for 


UNCLE  PHIL.— Page  224. 


AND   OTHER   TALES.  22$ 


the  boys  a  four-bladed,  pearl-handle  knife  ;  and  he  who  can  make 
the  handsomest  bow  shall  have  the  knife." 

Then  uncle  Phil  stopped  talking,  and  you  never  heard  such  a 
buzz  of  little  voices  in  your  life  ;  the  girls  said,  "  Oh,  I  wonder  who 
will  get  the  ring !  "  and  the  boys  said,  "  I  wonder  who  will  get  the 
knife  !  "  then  they  all  wondered  together. 

After  a  few  minutes  had  passed,  Uncle  Phil  said  he  would  give 
the  knife  first ;  and  the  boys  all  stood  in  a  row,  and  Uncle  Phil 
called  them  out  one  by  one,  to  see  which  could  make  the  most 
graceful  bow. 

First  came  bashful  Bill  Somers  ;  but  he  didn't  get  the  knife,  for 
he  turned  in  his  toes,  and  that  was  contrary  to  all  rules;  then  Jim 
Sanders  tried,  but  he  held  his  shoulders  up  to  his  ears,  and  Uncle 
Phil  said  that  that  would  never  do  ;  then  William  Blake  was  called 
out,  but  he  made  such  a  sudden  and  ungraceful  jerk  with  his  body, 
that  the  spectators  could  not  help  laughing  ;  and  then  Tom  Banard 
made  a  bow  so  much  like  a  lady's  courtesy,  that  they  would  not 
admit  that  it  was  a  bow  at  all,  and  they  all  went  through  the  order, 
until  Richard  Rose  alone  was  left  standing  upon  the  floor. 

"  Dick  will  get  it,"  they  all  shouted  ;  and  he  blushed  scarlet,  for 
he  wanted  the  knife  very  much  indeed  ;  but  as  several  good  bows 
had  been  made,  one  in  particular  by  Arthur  Gray,  he  feared  that  he 
could  never  surpass  them  ;  but  he  would  try  his  best  at  any  rate, 
he  thought.  So  he  tossed  back  his  waving  curls,  let  his  arms  fall 
gracefully  and  naturally,  and  made  such  a  bow,  that  the  best 
dancing-master  in  the  world  would  have  found  no  fault  with  it. 

"  Bravo  !  "  said  Uncle  Phil ;  and  everybody  echoed  his  praise 
and  said  that  Richard  deserved  the  knife  ;  and  Uncle  Phil  himself, 
making  the  funniest  old-fashioned  bow  you  ever  saw,  gave  it  to  him 
amid  the  congratulations  of  the  bystanders. 

"  Now,  girls,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  "  it  is  your  turn  "  ;  and 
turning  round  towards  the  cake,  he  ordered  the  servants  to  put  it 
15 


226  FAIRY-LAND 


upon  the  table.  Then  he  called  them  all  up  by  their  ages,  the 
youngest  coming  first,  and  gave  them  each  a  slice,  one  by  one. 
Mary  Dill  was  the  youngest,  but  the  ring  Was  not  in  hers  ;  nor  in 
Jane  Price's,  nor  in  Mary  Thompson's  ;  and  all  the  girls  thought, 
when  eighteen  slices  had  been  cut  and  no  ring  had  appeared,  that 
the  old  gentleman  had  forgotten  to  put  it  in  at  all, — but  it  was  there, 
for  all  that,  as  you  shall  soon  see. 

Only  two  slices  remained,  and  the  last  competitors  for  the  ring 
were  Mary  Bell  and  Florence. 

"The  piece  nearest  me,"  said  Uncle  Phil,  before  he  cut  them 
apart,  "  is  for  Florence,  the  other  for  Mary.  We  must  understand 
this  before  it  is  divided,  for  we  must  have  no  dissatisfaction  or  con- 
tention. Does  every  one  know  exactly  how  the  matter  stands  before 
the  cake  is  cut,  —  that  the  piece  nearest  me  is  for  Florence  ? " 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  every  body,  and  Florence  and  Mary  said,  "  yes, 
that  is  right ;  but  do  uncle  Phil  make  haste." 

Then  Uncle  Phil  cut  the  cake  down  exactly  in  the  middle  and 
something  hard  seemed  to  grate  against  the  knife  and  stop  its  way, 
and  sure  enough  it  was  the  ring. 

"  Oh,  ho ! "  he  said,  "  this  is  curious  enough,  but  wait  awhile,  young 
ladies,  stand  a  bit  farther  off  and  we  will  settle  this  difficult  matter. 
It  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  ihe  ring  lies  just  half  way  between  the 
slices.  I  will  cut  it  very  accurately,  and  that  little  girl  shall  have  it 
in  whose  slice  it  is  most  buried.  Answer  me  again,  does  that  seem 
fair  and  right  to  all  present  ?  " 

"  Yes,  yes !  "  was  the  answer. 

"  Does  it  seem  right  to  Florence  and  Mary  ? "  asked  Uncle  Phil, 
"  for  they  are  most  concerned  and  must  answer  for  themselves." 

"  Quite  right,"  was  the  reply  from  both. 

Then  Uncle  Phil  cut  regularly,  slowly,  and  softly,  through  the 
rich  cake,  and  everybody  saw  that  the  ring  just  grazed  Florence's 
slice,  while  its  glittering  circle  was  almost  all  imbedded  in  Mary's. 


AND   OTHER    TALES.  22/ 

"  The  ring  is  Mary's  plainly,  it  was  all  fairly  done  and  Mary  is 
the  fortunate  gainer,"  he  said. 

Then  the  little  voices  shouted,  "yes,  Mary  is  the  gainer  !"  but 
amid  the  din,  one  voice  shouted  above  them  all,  in  tones  of  angry 
passion,  "  no  sir,  it  was  not  fairly  done!" 

It  was  the  voice  of  Florence  who  stood  a  little  apart  from  the 
circle,  her  hands  clenched,  her  eyes  flashing  with  rage ;  "  no  sir,  it  is 
as  much  mine  as  hers,  —  more,  for  this  is  my  house  and  my  party. 
If  Mary  Bell  dared  to  touch  that  ring  I  shall  hate  her  forever  and 
ever.  It  is  mine.1" 

"  Florence,"  said  her  mother  chidingly,  "  you  forget  yourself,  my 
child ; "  and  her  father  laid  his  hand  upon  her  shoulder  and  told  her 
to  be  silent  or  leave  the  room. 

"  With  the  ring  only,"  she  said  haughtily,."  the  ring  that  should 
have  been  mine  and  has  been  stolen  from  me." 

"  Leave  the  room  instantly,"  said  her  father  leading  her  towards 
the  door.  "  I  confess,  my  young  friends,  with  a  saddened  heart,  that 
I  am  ashamed  of  my  own  daughter.  Perhaps  punishment  and  re- 
flection will  bring  her  to  her  senses." 

As  Florence  reached  the  door,  she  gave  a  look  of  scorn  to  the 
company,  and  closing  it  after  her  with  a  bang  that  set  all  the  glasses 
tinkling  on  the  well-filled  table,  she  went  to  her  room  and  burst  into 
a  flood  of  passionate  tears. 

"'That  frightful  Mary  Bell,"  she  muttered,  "  has  won  the  diamond 
ring  which  should  have  been  mine.  It  will  look  finely,  indeed,  on 
her  coarse  finger,  when  it  was  meant  for  my  delicate  hand,"  —  my 
delicate  hand,  —  scarcely  had  she  said  the  words,  when  a  quick,  burn- 
ing sensation  like  the  scorching  of  a  red-hot  iron,  seemed  to  blister 
and  scar  it,  and  there*,  adhering  to  the  rosy  skin,  and  not  to  be 
shaken  off,  stood  the  frightful  prince  of  bad  temper, 

"  You  called  me  and  I  have  come." 


228  FAIRY-LAND 


In  vain  she  tried  to  shake  the  little  monster  off;  in  vain  she  plead, 
scolded,  wept.  "  What  shall  I  do  ?  "  she  exclaimed,  bitterly  weep- 
ing ;  and  the  little  fiend  laughed  in  a  mocking  manner  at  her  despair. 
"  Oh  !  I  would  do  anything  in  the  world  to  have  him  away." 

"  Anything  in  the  world  ?  "  questioned  a  sweet  voice ;  "  then  go 
down  where  your  guests  are  assembled,  humbly  confess  that  you  have 
done  a  great  wrong,  been  disrespectful  to  your  parents,  forgotten  the 
rules  of  hospitality,  and  tell  Mary  Bell  that  she  is  welcome  to  the 
diamond  ring." 

"  Oh,  I  cannot,"  said  Florence. 

"  You  are  too  proud  to  do  so,"  said  the  good  fairy  ;  "  then  fare- 
well, perhaps  forever,"  and  she  left  her  with  the  horrible  demon,  but 
Florence's  cries  soon  brought  her  back.  The  torture  was  too  great  to 
bear. 

"  I  will  go  down,"  said  the  haughty  beauty,  now  humbled  to  the 
ground  ;  "  only  send  that  dreadful  creature  away,  and  come  yourself 
with  me." 

Great  was  the  astonishment  of  all  when  Florence  entered.  Her 
attitude  was  one  of  sadness,  her  eyelids  swollen  with  weeping,  her 
voice  trembling,  but  not  with  passion. 

"  I  have  come,"  she  said,  "  to  ask  forgiveness  of  each  and  all  for 
my  conduct  this  evening ;  to  tell  my  parents  that  I  am  sorry  for 
being  disrespectful  to  them  ;  and  to  say  to  my  dear  friend,  Mary, 
that  I  have  no  claim  upon  the  diamond  ring,  and  that  it  is  hers, 
henceforth  and  forever." 

Then  she  left  the  room  again,  but  all  the  time  she  could  feel  the 
soft  kisses  of  the  fairy  upon  her  hand.  Her  father  and  mother  were 
too  delighted  with  the  change  to  blame  or  punish  her,  and  thinking 
that  reflection  was  the  best  thing  for  her,  thdy  allowed  her  to  remain 
in  her  own  apartment  during  the  rest  of  the  evening,  but  the  charm 
of  the  party  was  over ;  there  was  no  longer  any  life  or  spirit  among 
the  children,  and  when  they  went  away,  both  the  entertainers  and 
the  entertained  felt  that  it  was  quite  a  relief. 


AND   OTHER    TALES.  22Q 

CHAPTER    IV. 

THE  DRESS. 

NOT  very  long  after  the  eventful  party,  Florence  was  invited  to 
perform  in  some  charade.  She  had  set  her  heart  upon  going,  as 
she  acted  well,  and  her  beautiful  face  never  showed  to  more  advan- 
tage than  when  some  fantastic  fancy  dress  heightened  her  pictur- 
esque appearance. 

The  part  which  she  was  to  have  taken  was  the  Angel  in  the  Game 
of  Life.  The  picture  represents  two  men  playing  a  game  of  chess. 
One  is  Satan  disguised,  playing  for  his  opponent's  soul.  Elevated 
above  the  players  stands  the  angel  protecting  the  young  man.  The 
brightest  light  is  thrown  upon  the  angel,  while  the  other  figures  are 
rather  in  the  shade.  Clothed  in  purest  white,  with  her  beautiful 
hair  falling  around  her  and  a  serene  smile  upon  her  lips,  the  angel 
looks  down  upon  the  players.  Her  hands  are  .crossed  upon  her 
breast  and  her  long,  loose  sleeves  have  the  appearance  of  wings,  as 
they  fall  back  and  leave  her  white  arms  bare. 

Florence  knew  that  this  was  just  the  character  for  her  and  she 
had  taken  infinite  pains  in  arranging  her  flowing  white  robe,  and  it 
was  laid  neatly  upon  the  bed,  with  every  fold  in  order,  long  before 
the  hour  had  arrived  when  she  was  to  dress  herself  in  it,  and  Jessie 
had  been  warned  not  to  disturb  or  touch  it.  Now  Jessie  was  Flor- 
ence's little  maid,  a  poor  girl  who  had  been  rescued  from  starving 
by  Florence's  mother. 

The  child  was  very  happy  generally,  and  so  fortunate  as  not 
often  to  incur  the  anger  of  her  young  mistress  ;  but  seldom,  if  ever, 
did  she  give  her  cause  for  anger  ;  for  gentle,  obedient,  and  faithful 
was  the  child,  looking  upon  Florence  as  a  superior  being  and 
watching  her  every  look  and  motion. 

As  the  dress  lay  with  its  exquisite  folds  upon  the  bed,  so  snowy 
white,  so  graceful,  Jessie  could  not  help  stopping  as  she  was  pass- 


230  FAIRY-LAND 


ing  by  to  admire  it.  She  held  a  candle  in  her  hand  which  was 
insecurely  fastened  in  the  candlestick  ;  and  in  leaning  over  a  little, 
the  candle  lost  its  balance,  fell  upon  the  dress  and  set  it  on  fire. 

Nor  was  this  all.  Half  frantic  with  fear,  she  rushed  for  a  pitcher 
of  water  (her  first  thought)  and  deluged  the  beautiful  dress,  ruining 
it  past  all  recovery.  Poor  girl,  she  only  did  what  seemed  to  her  to 
be  right ;  but  at  that  moment  Florence  entered. 

One  look  told  her  all ;  she  did  not  waste  words,  but  pushing  her 
from  her  with  frantic  violence,  Jessie  fell,  striking  her  head  against 
the  sharp  corner  of  the  open  door. 

Florence  followed  her  and  was  about  to  infljct  a  blow  upon  her 
with  her  clenched  hand,  when  she  felt  it  forcibly  opened,  and  that 
old  sensation,  not  to  be  misunderstood,  —  that  red-hot  searing  of  an 
iron,  —  caused  her  to  pause. 

Was  the  demon  there  again  ?  Yes  ;  more  hateful  than  ever,  and 
pointing  with  his^  four  different-colored  hands  to  the  spot  where 
Jessie  lay. 

"  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  you  have  killed  her,  my  beauty !"  he  screamed  ; 
"you're  a  sweet  creature,  just  after  my  own  heart ;  for  you  never 
stop  until  you  kill,  kiH,  kill !  " 

"  Merciful  heaven !  "  exclaimed  Florence,  sinking  down  to  the  pros- 
trated child,  from  whose  temple  the  blood  was  slowly  welling.  "  I  did 
not  mean  to  hurt  her  much ;  oh,  what  would  I  not  do  to  have  her 
back  to  life  again ;  on  my  knees  I  ask  forgiveness  for  my  sin  and 
promise  to  try  to  curb  this  dreadful  temper  of  mine  which  leads  to 
such  horrible  results."- 

"  Sprinkle  her  with  water  and  raise  her  gently  in  your  arms,"  said 
a  sweet  voice  and  Florence,  only  too  glad  to  obey  it,  did  as  she  was 
desired. 

"  Dear  Jessie,"  she  said,  as  the  poor  girl  unclosed  her  eyes ;  "  for- 
give me,  forgive  me  for  my  wicked  act,  and  teach  me  to  be  as  un- 
complaining and  gentle  as  you  are." 


rLOKKNCK   AND  .IKSSIE.  —  Pnpp  231. 


AND   OTHER    TALES. 


Jessie  could  not  speak  just  yet,  but  she  kissed  her  young  mistress's 
hand  most  tenderly,  and  pointing  to  the  ruined  dress,  hid  her  eyes 
from  which  tears  trickled  slowly. 

"  Never  mind,  Jessie,"  said  Florence,  "  never  mind  the  dress,  so 
that  you  are  not  hurt." 

"  I  am  not  much  hurt,  Miss  Flory,"  said  Jessie,  feebly.  "  I  did 
not  mean  to  let  the  candle  fall  and  spoil  your  beautiful  dress,  so 
that  you  cannot  go  to  the  party  to-night.  Please  forgive  me,  dear 
Miss  Florence,  and  I  will  try  never  to  be  so  careless  again." 

It  was  a  sad  and  pretty  sight  to  see  them  mutually  exchanging 
forgiveness.  Florence  leaning  over  Jessie  who  was  pale  in  contrast 
to  the  beautiful  being  who  was  now  so  watchful  and  careful  of  her, 
and  whose  expression  was  more  angelic  in  its  compassion  than  it 
could  have  been  that  night  in  the  far-famed  "  Game  of  Life."  The 
demon  of  bad  temper  fled  far  away  and  the  good  fairy  nestled  in  a 
bouquet  on  the  table,  smiling  upon  the  scene. 

Florence  did  not  go  to  the  festival,  nor  did  she  regret  it,  for  she 
spent  the  evening  with  Jessie,  who  became  every  minute  more  free 
from  pain,  and  was  able  the  next  day  to  resume  her  accustomed 
duties. 

CHAPTER  V. 

DANCING    SCHOOL. 

"  COME,  Florence,"  said  kind  Mrs.  Fraser  one  night  at  dancing 
school,  "  it  is  ten  o'clock,  and  I  promised  your  father  to.  bring  you 
home  at  that  time." 

"Just  one  more  dance,  Mrs.  Fraser,  please." 

"That  is  just  what  you  said  a  half  hour  ago,  my  child,  when  I  told 
you  to  think  about  going." 

Florence's  partner  approached,  and  away  she  went  to  the  dance, 
Mrs.  Fraser  sighed  and  sat  down  once  more.  The  old  lady  was 


FAIRY-LAND 


very  weary ;  and  her  granddaughter,  Annie,  was  sitting  shawled  by 
her  side  waiting  patiently  for  Florence,  with  a  great  deal  of  sleep  in 
her  young  eyes.  The  dance  appeared  to  them  terribly  long,  but  at 
last  it  came  to  an  end.  Florence  did  not  approach  the  place  where 
Mrs.  Fraser  was  sitting,  but  took  her  seat  at  the  other  side  of  the 
room  and  was  gaily  talking  with  her  young  partner,  while  another  of 
the  dancing-school  youths  was  pleading  for  her  hand  for  the  next 
dance. 

Florence  had  just  given  her  consent,  forgetting  all  about  Mrs. 
Fraser,  when  she  approached  with  her  shawl. 

"  Now,  Florence,  come,"  she  said,  "  I  cannot  stay  any  longer  ;  not 
one  dance  more  will  I  wait." 

"  But  I  am  engaged  for  the  next." 

"  That  I  cannot  help  ;  you  must  break  your  engagement,  for  your 
father's  command  should  be  regarded  before  a  promise  to  dance. 
Come,  Florence." 

But  Florence  did  not  stir. 

"  Are  you  not  going  with  me  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Fraser. 

"  No,  ma'am,  I  am  not,"  she  answered ;  "  I  am  engaged  for  the 
next  dance,  and  I  do  not  see  what  difference  a  few  minutes  will 
make  "  ;  and  then  the  deluded  girl  turned  aside  and  said  in  a  whis- 
per to  her  partner,  "  I  hate  overbearing  duennas." 

The  whisper  was  just  loud  enough  for  Mrs.  Fraser  to  hear,  and, 
bending  upon  Florence  a  stern  look,  she  said  :  "  I  shall  leave  you  then, 
Miss  Somers,  to  your  fate  for  I  can  do  no  more,  and  remember  that 
this  is  the  last  evening  that  you  shall  come  here  under  my  care.  I 
shall  take  Annie  home  in  the  carriage,  and  then  send  it  back  for 
you,  and  to-morrow  I  shall  call  upon  your  father  and  tell  him  of  your 
disrespectful  conduct,  and  decline  any  more  to  be  your  chaperone." 

Florence  colored  crimson  at  being  thus  publicly  rebuked,  and  the 
fiend  bad  temper  took  possession  of  her. 

"  You  may  do  what  you  please,"  she  replied,  with  a  toss  of  her 


AND   OTHER    TALES,  233 


beautiful  head.  "  I  scorn  you  and  your  protection ;  pray  do  not 
trouble  yourself  about  my  welfare.  Come,  we  are  losing  that  beauti- 
ful quadrille." 

Mrs.  Fraser  went  away  more  grieved  than  hurt.  She  had  heard 
something  of  Florence's  character,  but  had  never  seen  it  in  its  full 
development  until  now,  and  she  pitied  the  parents  of  the  wayward 
girl,  who  were  her  warm  and  fast  friends. 

Florence's  partner  looked  at  her  for  one  moment  in  amazement, 
but  said  nothing ;  he  thought  everything.  He  thought,  —  "  how  very 
beautiful  She  is,  how  perfect  her  form,  how  pretty  her  foot ;  but,  oh, 
what  a  black,  black  heart  she  must  have,  to  treat  her  friend  and  pro- 
tector so.  I  am  glad  you  are  not  my  sister,  Miss  Florence,  and  pretty 
as  you  are,  this  is  the  last  time  that  I  wilt  ask  the  honor  of  your 
hand  in  a  dance.  I  wish  I  did  not  have  to  go  through  with  it  now, 
it  was  bought  at  such  a  fearful  price,  and  that  I  was  dancing  with 
sweet  Emma  Johnstone,  over  there,  who,  though  not  beautiful  as  an 
angel,  is  a  gentle  and  amiable  girl." 

Florence  tried  her  best  to  be  agreeable,  but  two  things  prevented  ; 
first,  the  silence  and  inattention  of  her  partner,  who  was  watching 
sweet  Emma  Johnstone  ;  secondly,  a  sharp  burning  pain  in  her  left 
hand  which  she  too  well  understood. 

As  the  bad  fairy  never  made  himself  visible  except  when  she  was 
alone,  she  wished  for  once  that  she  had  gone  home  with  Mrs. 
Fraser,  for  she  dreaded  the  ride  by  herself.  And  had  she  known 
what  was  to  happen  she  might  well  have  dreaded  it. 

"Miss  Somers'  carriage   has  come,"  said  the  servant,  after  the- 
dance  was  over. 

"Just  one  more,  just  one  more,"  said  two  or  three  aspirants  for 
her  hand. 

"  Not  another,"  whispered  the  demon  in  her  ear. 

"  Not  another,"  said  Florence  trying  in  vain  to  smile  sweetly  upon 
the  supplicants. 


234  FAIRY-LAND 


"  If  she  had  only  said  that  awhile  ago  when  Mrs.  Fraser  urged 
her  to  go  home, "  thought  her  last  partner,  "  how  lovely  she  would 
would  still  be  ;  but  now  she  is  nothing  to  me  but  a  disobedient  girl, 
one  who  must  make  her  home  unhappy ;  one,  I  know,  who  is  not 
kind  to  her  sister,  for  she  is  too  selfish  to  be  so,  and  who  must  make 
her  brother's  time  pass  disagreeably  enough.  Yes  !  thank  my  stars 
she  does  not  belo'ng  to  my  home.  I  would  not  have  her  there  for  the 
world.  Then  he  added  as  he  handed  her  to  the  carriage,  —  "  Good 
night,  a  pleasant  ride  to  you  "  ;  and  Florence  answered,  "  thank  you, 
good  night"  ;  and  the  carriage  rolled  off  with  its  beautiful  occupant, 
who  saw  by  the  light  of  the  lamp  which  they  passed  her  left  hand 
demon  more  terrible  than  ever,  and  of  whom  she  in  vain  asked 
mercy ;  for  the  pain  which  he  seemed  maliciously  to  take  pleasure  in 
inflicting  was  more  intense  than  she  had  ever  experienced  before. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

AN      ACCIDENT. 

THE  coachman  was  not  in  a  very  good  humor  at  the  idea  of  hav- 
ing to  return  again  to  the  dancing  school  and  drove  carelessly  and 
furiously  through  the  streets,  until,  on  turning  rapidly  round  a  corner, 
he  came  in  contact  with  another  carriage  which  was  going  at  a  rapid 
rate  also. 

Florence  heard  a  crash  and  many  words,  then  a  swifter  whirling 
through  the  silent  street ;  then  a  knowledge  seemed  to  come  over  her 
that  there  was  no  coachman  upon  the  box ;  and  she  heard  the  mock- 
ing laugh  of  the  demon  and  his  voice,  which  said,  "  You  will  pay 
dearly  for  that  last  dance,  my  lady;"  then  another  crash  met  her  ear, 
and  she  became  unconscious. 

When  she  awoke  to  consciousness  again,  she  was  in  her  own  room. 
It  was  darkened ;  but  she  could  see  Jessie  sitting  down  by  her  bed- 


AND   OTHER    TALES.  235 

side  sewing,  and  her  father  and  mother  in  earnest  consultation  with 
the  doctor.  A  bandage  was  on  her  forehead,  and  her  left  arm  was 
bound  up  with  long  splints,  and  when  she  tried  to  raise  it,  the  agony 
was  terrible.  She  tried  to  remember  what  had  happened,  and  at 
•  last  the  truth  flashed  upon  her  and  she  closed  her  eyes  once  more. 

Then  Jessie  came  and  applied  some  healing  ointment  to  her  face, 
and  in  a  whisper  to  herself  bewailed  the  loss  of  her  dear  Miss  Floy's 
beauty,  and  abused  that  "  horrid  coachman  "  for  allowing  her  lovely 
face  to  become  so  bruised  and  her  arm  to  be  so  badly-  broken ;  and 
then,  to  Jessie's  delight,  Florence  opened  her  eyes  and  spoke. 

"  Is  it  so  very  dreadful,  Jessie  ? "  she  said,  and  burst  into  a  fit  of 
weeping. 

"  The  worst  is  over,  now,"  said  the  doctor  approaching,  and  Flor- 
ence felt  her  mother's  kiss  upon  her  face  and  heard  her  father's 
"  God  be  thanked,"  and  she  knew  that  she  had  escaped  from  a  great 
peril. 

Her  beauty  gone,  what  had  Florence  now  to  do  ?  Everything. 
That  long  period  in  her  quiet  chamber  taught  her  many  things. 
What  had  she  to  do  with  pride  now  ?  nothing ;  how  could  she  best 
learn  to  be  like  dear,  patient  Jessie?  By  considering  the  wants  of 
others.  How  could  she  heal  Mrs.  Fraser's  wounded  feelings?  By 
sending  for  her,  which  she  did,  and  asking  for  forgiveness  which 
was  freely  granted  ;  and  so  it  came  to  pass,  that  Florence  was  more 
beloved  with  her  bruised  and  disfigured  face  and  mutilated  arm,  and 
bandaged  forehead,  then  she  had  been  in  all  her  pride  of  exquisite 
beauty  ;  and  when  Jessie  spoke  in  troubled  accents  of  her  departed 
loveliness,  Florence  would  check  her  by  saying  that  it  was  all  for 
the  best,  and  her  smile  was  so  sweet  when  she  thus  spoke  that  Jessie 
would  clap  her  hands  and  cry  out,  "  There,  I  know  that  my  dear 
mistress  will  be  beautiful  again  ! " 


236  I' AIRY-LAND 


CHAPTER  VII. 
THE    FAIRY'S    LAST   VISIT. 

WERE  you  ever  ill,  little  reader,  and  do  you  remember  how  patient 
you  had  to  be,  how  forbearing,  how,  when  any  one  but  stepped  across 
the  room  it  sent  a  pang  to  your  aching  head,  and  you  had  to  calm 
yourself  and  suppress  the  quick  angry  word  of  impatience  that  rose 
to  your  lips  ?  •  Well,  Florence  passed  through  just  such  a  trying  ex- 
perience. It  was  hard,  oh,  how  hard  at  first !  but  day  after  day  it 
became  more  easy. 

"  There,"  she  would  say  after  a  day's  trial ;  "  I  think  I  have  done 
pretty  well,  Jessie,  only  tw6  cross  words  have  passed  my  lips  to-day ; 
once  when  brother  whistled  very  loud,  and  then  again  when  he  shut 
the  door  so  violently  that  it  seemed  to  make  every  nerve  in  my  frame 
quiver.  Am  I  not  improving,  Jessie?  Do  give  me  a  little  hope." 

And  Jessie  would  answer,  "  Dear  Miss  Floy,  that  you  are,  and 
everybody  says  they  never  saw  such  a  change." 

"  Such  a  change  indeed,"  sighed  Florence,  thinking  of  her  lost 
beauty ;  "  but  then,"  she  whispered  softly  to  herself,  "  have  I  not  in 
reality  been  a  gainer?  What  a  sweet  thing  it  is  to  be  loved  so 
much ! " 

And  so  it  came  to  pass,  that  Florence  improved  in  health  and 
appearance  every  day,  and  Time,  the  great  healer,  restored  her 
beautiful  f6rehead  to  its  original  whiteness  and  smoothness,  and  the 
bones  of  her  broken  arm  were  firmly  knit  to  their  old  symmetry 
again. 

She  had  not  yet  left  her  chamber  and  was  alone  at  twilight  one 
evening,  musing  over  her  past  and  present  life.  The  shades  of 
night  gradually  deepened  and  the  fire-light  flickered  upon  the  walls, 
casting  grotesque  shadows  around. 

Suddenly  soft  music  seemed  to  fill  the  room,  and  Florence  per- 


AND  OTHER   TALES.  237 

ceived  exquisite  perfumes  in  the .  air ;  the  light  grew  brighter  and 
brighter,  and  she  saw  that  the  apartment  was  filled  with  gay  and  airy 
shapes  ;  while  two,  more  beautiful  than  the  rest,  unrolled  a  scroll 
upon  which  was  written  in  plain  characters,  Florence,  you  have  con- 
quered the  Demon  of  Bad  Temper ;  he  will  be  your  companion  no  longer. 

Florence  felt  a  thrill  of  pleasure  as  •  she  read  these  words  and 
looked  at  the  fairies  who  flitted  about ;  but  greater  was  her  joy  when 
she  was  conscious  that  in  her  right  hand  she  held  her  old  friend 
and  counsellor,  the  Queen  of  Good  Nature  and  Self-Conquest. 

"  Yes,  Florence,"  her  sweet  voice  murmured  ;  "  you  have  indeed 
conquered  ;  hard  has  been  your  trial,  but  greater  your  victory.  Con- 
tinue to  be  ever  as  you  are,  the  pride  of  your  parents,  the  delight  of 
your  friends.  You  have  no  need  of  me  more,  and  I  go  to  assist 
others  who  are  as  you  have  been.  Do  not  weep,  sweet  girl,  for 
though  you  will  not  see  me  visibly  as  you  do  now,  in  your  heart  will 
be  my  home.  Farewell." 

Florence  stretched  out  her  arms  to  embrace  the  beautiful  shape  ; 
but  it  faded  in  the  air,  and  ever  after,  when  she  was  praised  for  her 
sweetness  and  gentleness  she  would  answer,  "  Ah,  but  how  can  I 
help  it,  when  you  know  that  I  have  a  good  fairy  in  my  heart." 

This  is  only  fiction,  my  young  friend,  and  yet,  if  you  choose,  you 
can  apply  it  to  yourself  when  you  feel  that  bad  temper  has  overcome 
you ;  and  you  can,  like  Florence,  cherish  a  good  fairy  in  your  heart. 


LILLIAN. 

AGED     FOUR     MONTHS. 
LITTLE  floweret,  Gentle  Lillian, 


Over  the  sea, 
List  to  a  murmur 
Of  song  from  me. 


Wonderful  child, 
Who  shall  declare 
Your  virtues  mild  ? 


238 


FAIRY-LAND 


Tell  me,  Lillian, 

Whence  came  those  eyes  . 
With  their  fringed  lids  ? 

From  the  summer  skies  ? 

Your  father  affirms 
Intelligence  gleams 

From  their  earnest  depths, 
Like  sunset  beams. 

You  have  learned  the  way 

To  win  our  hearts, 
And  don't  depend 

On  tragedy  starts, 

And  aches  and  pains, 

To  have  your  will ; 
But  deep  in  thought, 

You  lie  quite  still, 

A  picture  child  — 
While  you  hear  us  tell 

Astonishing  things, 
You  know  full  well 

Are  not  quite  true  ; 

For,  entre  nous, 
You  have  your  faults 

And  wrong  things  do. 

You  close  your  lids 
With  a  sleepy  grace, 

To  hear  us  speak 

Of  your  "  perfect  face  " ; 

To  make  us  stare 

At  your  splendid  eyes, 
You  raise  them  up 

With  a  sweet  surprise ; 


With  a  dreamy  gaze, 

A  poetic  air, 
You  smooth  the  waves 

Of  your  silken  hair  ; 

Your  mother  too,  sees 
In  the  perfect  curve 

Of  your  pencilled  brows, 
Resolve  and  nerve. 

And  friends  exclaim, 
"  Expression  rare  !  " 

And,  "  Behold  the  light 
In  her  waving  hair ! " 

"  And  her  taper  hands, 

See,  their  rosy  tips 
Have  the  crimson  tinge 

Of  her  pouting  lips." 

Like  a  common  child, 

You  scorn  to  show 
The  common  ills 

That  babies  know. 

With  an  absent  look, 

Your  ivory  feet, 
You  enraptured  hear 

Called  dimpled  and  sweet. 

All  this  is  fun  : 

Hear  some  earnest  thing 
Before  you  sleep 

Or  my  thoughts  take  wing. 

You  will  hear  us  speak 

Of  the  lilies  rare, 
Called  Jesus'  flowers  ; 

Of  the  fields  so  fair. 


AND   OTHER   TALES.  239 


Be  like  to  these, 

Beloved  child ! 
As  white  and  pure, 
•  And  as  undefiled. 

And  in  life's  morn, 
In  the  time  of  youth, 

Keep  close  in  your  heart 
The  light  of  truth. 


And  as  time  steals  on, 
.    And  your  leaves  unfold 
To  the  heat  of  day, 

Or  the  night's  drear  cold, 

Be  a  lily  still. 

Christ's  Lillian  be, 
Arrayed  in  the  robes 

Of  His  purity. 


A   STORY   FOR   CHILDREN. 

"I   WISH   I    HAD." 

A      REGULAR      FAIRYTALE. 

George.  —  I  wish  I  had  a  room  full  of  money,  and  piles  of  gold 
and  silver  up  to  the  very  ceiling.  Oh,  I  do  wish  I  had  it ! 

William.  —  And  I  wish  I  had  twenty  race  horses,  all  fine  animals, 
with  long  tails  and  small  heads ;  papa  likes  horses  with  small  heads. 

Mary.  —  Well,  I  wish  I  had  fifty  singing  birds,  yellow,  purple,  and 
gold,  with  diamond  crests  and  ruby  eyes,  in  beautiful  golden  cages 
with  balconies  all  round. 

Susan.  —  You  would  be  quite  welcome  to  the  birds,  sister  Mary, 
if  I  only  had  a  whole  bookcase  full  of  elegant  books  bound  in  calf, 
with  gilt  leaves.  My !  would  n't  I  read !  I  would  never  care  to 
play ;  George  might  count  his  money  all  day ;  William  ride  to  the 
north  pole  with  his  fiery  steeds  :  and  you  might  listen  for  hours  to 
your  diamond  crested  birds ;  only  give  me  books.  Oh  !  I  wish  I 
had  them  now,  —  to-day. 

And  so  when  the  children  had  all  wished  for  what  they  most 
wanted,  they  sat  down  and  began  to  think  and  think  and  think 
what  they  would  do  with  their  money  and  horses  and  birds  and 


240  FAIRY-LAND 


books,  and  their  little  voices  were  hushed,  and  there  was  a  dead 
silence. 

Presently  they  heard  somebody  knocking  —  bam,  bam,  bam,  at  the 
door. 

"  Come  in,"  they  all  said,  and  an  old  gentleman,  whom  they  had 
never  seen  before,  entered.  He  was  very  small  and  shrivelled  and 
had  long  white  hair  like  blown  glass,  and  a  white  beard  reaching  to 
his  knees.  And  then  his  teeth  shook  so  fearfully,  that  when  he 
opened  his  mouth  the  children  were  afraid  that  they  would  tumble 
out  upon  the  ground  ;  his  eyes  were  green  and  his  eyebrows  and  eye 
lashes  were  g/een,  too ;  and  altogether,  he  had  such  a  queer  appear- 
ance that  the  children  moved  closer  together,  although  they  were 
not  exactly  afraid  of  the  old  gentleman,  but  only  astonished  at  him, 
as  they  afterwards  said. 

So  when  he  reached  the  middle  of  the  room  he  shook  hands  all 
round,  and  then  sat  down  quite  at  home,  and  crossed  his  legs  and 
laughed  heartily.  But  the  funniest  thing  about  the  old  gentleman, 
was,  that  instead  of  talking,  he  sang  all  he  had  to  say  in  a  sort  of 
chant  which  was  like  the  growl  of  a  cheerful  lion,  and  which  seemed 
to  come  from  the  very  bottom  of  his  chest ;  and  the  worst  of  it  was, 
that  there  was  no  tune  nor  time  in  the  song. 

"Well  —  little — children,"  he  sang,  "I — heard — you — a—  wish- 
ing, — and  —  I  —  have  —  come  —  to  —  give  —  you — what — you  — 
want.  But  —  first  —  we  —  must — make  —  a  —  bargain  —  (then  he 
turned  his  eyes  slowly  from  one  to  the  other) ;  should  —  you  —  have 

—  what  —  you  —  desire,  —  would  —  you  —  be  —  willing  —  to  —  do 

—  without — other  —  things?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  yes  !  "  they  all  exclaimed,  "  what  a  nice  old  gentleman ; 
if  we  only  had  the  money,  the  horses,  the  birds  and  the  books,  we 
shouldn't  want  anything  more  in  the  whole  world." 

"Very  —  well,"  said  the  old  gentleman. 

Then  the  children  joined  hands  and  danced  round  him  for  joy  ; 


AND    OTHER    TALES.  24! 


but  he  shook  his  head  very  solemnly  all  the  time,  and  his  eyes  and 
eyebrows  and  eyelashes  turned  from  green  to  blue. 

'  Then  he  told  George  to  come  with  him  into  the  next  room  and 
lo  !  George  had  his  wish,  for  it  was  all  filled  with  money,  and  gold 
and  silver. 

"  How  delightful ! "  said  George ;  "what  a  first-rate  old  fellow  you 
are  M,  —  what's  your  name !  " 

"That's  —  not — my  —  title,"  sang  the  old  gentleman;  "but — as 

—  you've  —  heard  —  my  —  name  —  before  —  may  —  be  —  you'll  — 
not  —  find  — it  —  difficult  —  to  —  pronounce.       Folks  —  call  —  me 
_Mr.  —  Wishihad." 

"Well,"  said  George,  scarcely  listening  to  him.  "  This  is  what  I 
call  happiness;  nothing  shall  stop  me  now  from  buying  the  gold 
watch  at  Mortimer's,  or  a  doubled  barrel  gun,  or  the  yacht  James 
Willis  valued  at  so  high  a  rate.  Why,  I  could  buy  the  world. 

George  didn't  quite  like  the  tone  in  which  the  old  gentleman  sang 
out.  "  Now  —  could  —  you  ? "  nor  the  queer  look  he  gave  him ;  so 
fearing  that  the  money  might  disappear  as  it  had  come,  to  make 
sure  of  at  least  some  of  it,  he  stooped  to  fill  his  pockets.  But  lo 
and  behold !  his  arms,  his  hands,  the  very  end  of  his  nails  were  stiff 
and  paralyzed,  and  though  the  glittering  coin  came  in  contact  with 
his  fingers,  not  a  piece  of  it  could  he  pick  up. 

"  Look  here,  sir,"  he  said,  turning  toward  the  old  gentleman ;  "there's 
no  power  in  my  hand,  sir,  my  fingers  won't  bend  to  gather  it  up ; 
somebody  will  come  and  steal  it  all,  sir." 

"As  —  to  —  that,"  said  the  old  gentleman  slowly,  "it's  —  of  no  — 
consequence  —  at  —  all,  —  for  —  you  —  said  —  that  —  you  —  would 

—  not  —  want  —  any  —  thing  —  but  —  money  —  and — piles  —  of — 
gold  —  and  —  silver,"  and  he  went  out  and  shut  the  door,  leaving 
George  in  the  midst  of  his  useless  riches  crying  with  vexation,  and 
trying  to  pick  up  the  slippery  gold  in  his  stiff  fingers,  in  vain. 

Then  Mr.  Wishihad  went  back  into  the  room  where  the  children 
were,  and  sat  down  quite  at  home  again. 
16 


242  FAIRY-LAND 


"George — has  —  his  —  money,"  he  sang,  twisting  his  long  white 
beard  round  and  round.  "I  —  think  —  that  —  fine,  —  brave  —  look- 
ing —  little — fellow  —  over  —  there  —  said  —  that  —  he  —  wanted 
— horses." 

"Nothing  but  horses,  sir, nothing,"  said  William  ;  "maybe  you've 
never  been  on  a  horse  sir,  and  don't  know  much  about  horse-flesh ; 
but  nothing  can  come  up  in  my  opinion  to  a  canter  on  a  full-blooded 
animal,  gentle  as  a  lady,  sir,  and  yet  fiery  as  the  lightning.  Oh, 
horses !  shouldn't  I  like  to  have  some  horses  !  " 

The  old  gentleman  seemed  to  have  caught  some  of  William's 
enthusiasm,  for  while  he  was  talking  his  eyes  changed  from  blue 
to  fiery  pink,  and  his  eyebrows  and  eyelashes  turned  pink  too, 
and  every  time  they  changed  color  he  looked  as  if  he  had  a  new 
face. 

"  You  —  shall  —  have  —  your  —  horses  —  my  —  boy,"  he  sang, 
slapping  William  upon  the  back  in  quite  a  familiar  manner.  "  Come 

—  with  —  me." 

So  he  took  William  to  another  room,  and  told  him  to  look  out  of 
the  windows ;  and  lo  and  behold,  there  were  his  twenty  race  horses, 
all  full-blooded  animals,  and  every  one  worth  a  fortune,  almost. 

"Are  —  they  —  not — beautiful?"  chanted  the  queer  old  man. 

"  Beautiful  ? "  exclaimed  William,  feeling  all  the  pride  of  ownership ; 
"  that's  too  tame  a  word  for  them,  sir,  they  are  splendiferous,  first 
rate  ;  how  proud  they  look,  how  graceful,  how  daintily  they  lift  their 
feet  from  the  ground  ;  what  fine  nostrils  they  have,  and  then  their 
heads,  how  small!  There, —  do  you  see  that  one  yonder  with  a 
black  star  above  the  eyes  —  that's  the  fellow  for  me  ;  if  you  are  not 
afraid,  sir,  please  step  down  a  bit  into  the  yard  and  see  me  mount 
him.  I  '11  borrow  father's  saddle  and  just  try  his  gait  you  know ; 
you  might  take  that  roan,  sir,  he  seems  quite  gentle  enough. 

"  To  —  oblige  —  you  —  I  —  will,"  —  Master  —  William  ;  —  come 

—  along,  —  let — it  —  never  —  be  —  said  —  that  —  I,  — Wishihad  — 


AND   OTHER   TALES.  243 

was  afraid  —  of — horses,"  sang  the  stranger;  and  off  he  walked 
towards  the  door. 

"  Stop  a  bit,  Mr.  Wishihad,"  said  WiHiam  ;  "  it  seems  to  me  that  I 
can't  walk.  I  have  a  dreadful  pain  in  my  legs.  Oh,  dreadful ! "  and 
down  George  sat  on  the  ground,  unable  to  move. 

"Come — along,"  sang  the  old  gentleman  with  variations. 

"  Oh,  I  can't,  sir.     You  don't  know  what  pain  I  suffer." 

"  As  —  to  —  that,"  returned  the  old  man  very  slowly  and  quite 
out  of  tune,  "  it's  —  of —  no  —  consequence,  —  for  —  you  —  said,  — 
didn't  —  you,  —  that  —  you  —  wouldn't  —  want  —  any  —  thing  — 
but  —  horses  ? "  and  he  shut  the  door,  and  left  him  alone  with  the 
pain  in  his  leg  and  the  sound  of  the  full-blooded  horses  trotting 
about  the  yard. 

Then  he  went  back  in  the  room  where  the  girls  were,  and  they 
both  noticed  that  his  eyes  had  changed  from  fiery  pink  to  pale  yel- 
low and  that  he  was  very,  very  ugly. 

Then  he  looked  right  at  Mary  and  chanted  in  the  same  way  as 
before  what  was  in  his  mind. 

"  You  —  are  —  the  —  little  —  Miss,  —  I  —  believe,  —  who  — 
wanted  —  birds ;  —  you  —  shall  —  have  —  them,  —  come  "  ;  so  he 
offered  his  arm  to  Mary  very  politely  and  he  carried  her  away  to  a 
third  room,  and  sure  enough  there  were  the  birds ;  but  words 
couldn't  describe  their  beauty ;  they  were  moving  jewels,  all  ruby 
and  topaz,  and  emerald  and  gold.  And  their  cages  !  why,  you  never 
saw  such  cages,  with  a  golden  cupola  on  the  top  of  each,  with  a  dia- 
mond arrow  to  tell  which  way  the  wind  blew,  and  balconies  with 
silver  railings  for  the  birds  to  walk  on,  in  the  cool  time  of  the  even- 
ing when  the  sun  was  not  very  hot ;  and  then  their  cups  for  water,  — 
even  Mary's  mother's  best  company's  glasses  were  not  equal  to 
these.  So  when  Mary  saw  all  these  delightful  things  and  felt  that 
they  were  all  her  own,  she  couldn't  help  saying  to  the  old  gentleman 
with  beaming  eyes  and  grateful  voice,  "  Oh,  sir,  you  have  made  me 


244  FAIRY-LAND 


very  happy,  I  am  so  much  obliged  to  you,  I  don't  know  what 
to  do." 

"  Singing-birds  —  I  —  thought  —  you  —  said  —  you  —  wanted," 
began  the  old  gentleman  ;  "  listen,  —  there  —  they  —  go  "  ;  and  sure 
enough  the  birds  quite  drowned  his  voice  in  their  exquisite  strains, 
in  which  the  music  seemed  to  trill  and  quiver  and  gush  and  float, 
and  rise  and  fall  and  swell  and  fade  and  die  and  come  to  life 
again. 

That  was  not  a  song,  but  only  a  kind  of  introduction,  at  least  the 
old  gentleman  thought  so  ;  foe  when  they  stopped,  his  gruff  voice 
was  heard  in  these  words. 

"  None  —  of —  your — rigmaroles,  —  and  —  quivering, —  and  — 
quavering,  —  give  —  us  —  a  —  regular  —  tune.  Now —  that's  —  what 

—  I  —  call  —  music;  —  just  —  listen  —  Miss  —  Mary"  ;  and  the  old 
gentleman  began  to  keep  time  with  his  feet,  and  the  little  birds  sang 
with   all   their  might   and  main,  and  twisted   about  their  brilliant 
throats,  and  looked  so  proud  with  their  jewelled  crowns,  that  anyone 
would  have  imagined  that  they  thought  the  world  had  never  heard 
such  music  before,  and  in  truth  the  world  never  had.     But  alas ! 
though  Mary  saw  that  they  were  singing,  not  one  note  did  she  hear ; 
she  was  stone  deaf. 

"  Oh,  sir,"  she  said.  "  I'm  so  frightened,  indeed,  sir ;  I  am  afraid 
you  will  not  believe  me,  but  I  think  —  I  must  be  deaf.  Is  n't  it 
dreadful,  sir  ?  Something  has  stopped  my  ears  ;  you  are  so  great 
and  powerful,  sir,  don't  you  think  that  you  could  unstop  them  ? " 

"  As  —  to  —  that,"  bawled  out  the  old  gentleman  very  slowly  close 
in  her  ears,  in  the  loudest  bass  voice  that  ever  was  heard,  "  it's  —  of 

—  no  —  consequence  —  whatever,  —  for  — you  —  said  — you  — 
would  —  not  —  want  —  any —  thing  —  in  —  the  —  world  —  but  — 
singing  —  birds,  —  and  —  those  —  certainly  —  are  —  singing  — 

—  birds  —  are  n't  they  ?  "  and  he  shut  the  door  and  went  back  to 
Susan. 


AND   OTHER    TALES.  24$ 


Susan  was  so  busy  reading  when  he  went  in,  that  she  did  not  see 
him  until  he  came  quite  close  to  her,  and  then  she  noticed  that  his 
eyes,  eyebrows,  and  eyelashes  were  bright  purple.  She  had  never 
seen  purple  eyes  before,  and  as  she  thought  them  very  strange,  she 
looked  quite  down  into  their  mysterious  depths. 

"I  —  never  —  saw  —  such  —  a  —  reader,"  —  sang  the  old  gentle- 
man ;  "  why  —  she  —  is  —  even  —  reading  —  my  —  old  —  old  — 
eyes  —  I  —  think  — you  —  said  —  you  —  wanted  —  books." 

"  Oh,  yes,  sir ;  I  have  quite  a  passion  for  books.  When  my  sis- 
ters and  brothers  are  playing  with  their  toys,  or  walking  or  riding,  I 
care  for  nothing  but  reading.  But  I  am  so  tired  of  the  books  I 
have ;  I  have  read  mine  over  and  over  again.  Oh,  dear  me !  I  do 
wish  I  had  some  new  books  !  " 

"  You  —  shall  —  have  —  them,"  was  the  compassionate  answer ; 
and  sure  enough  the  floor  groaned  and  cracked  beneath  their  feet, 
and  he  told  Susan  to  stand  a  little  farther  off,  and  up  rose  the  most 
beautiful  bookcase  in  the  world.  Then  the  floor  mended  itself 
again,  and  the  case  stood  firm  and  elegant  on  its  four  handsome 
legs.  It  was  made  of  the  clearest  crystal  and  inlaid  with  gems. 

These  gems  were  grouped  together  in  such  a  manner  that  they 
were  likenesses  of  all  the  great  men  and  women  in  the  world  who 
had  ever  written  books  for  children,  and  then  when  the  old  gentle- 
man touched  a  spring,  the  crystal  doors  opened,  and  he  showed  Susan 
the  books  that  she  had  been  longing  to  read,  "  for  ages,"  she  said, 
all  in  splendid  large  type,  with  pictures  on  nearly  every  page ;  and 
then  on  each  side  of  the  bookcase  were  two  golden  candlesticks 
with  perfumed  candles,  which  lit  themselves  when  the  sun  went 
down,  and  a  drawer  of  book-marks  with  every  motto  on  them  that 
was  ever  wrought  on  book-marks  in  the  universe. 

"  Oh,  —  ho,"  sang  the  old  gentleman  ;  "  this  —  is  —  even  —  finer 

—  than  —  I  —  ordered  ;  —  they  —  are  —  bringing  the  —  art  —  of 

—  book  —  making  —  to  —  great  —  perfection  ;  —  now,  —  only  — 


246  FAIRY-LAND 


look  —  here  —  Miss  —  Susan  —  at  —  this  — fairy  —  tale  ;  — how  — 
handsome  —  the  —  pictures  —  are,  —  why  —  the  —  young  —  ladies 

—  are  —  dropping  —  real  —  pearls  —  and  —  diamonds  —  from  — 
their  —  mouths." 

Susan  looked,  but  alas  !  she  thought,  she  knew,  that  she  was  blind.  • 
What  a  horrible  thing  ! 

"  There  ;  —  this  —  is  —  most  —  extraordinary,"  continued  the  old 
gentleman.  "  I  never  —  did  —  see  —  the  —  like  ;  —  how  —  bright  — 
sweet  —  Blanche's  —  eyes  —  are  ;  —  and  —  how  —  perfect  —  is  — 
the  —  foliage  —  which  —  seems  —  to  —  wave  —  on  —  those  —  trees ; 
look  —  Miss  —  Susan  ! " 

"  Oh  sir,"  said  Susan,  in  piteous  accents,  "  I  cannot  see,  I  am  blind 
all  of  a  sudden  ;  if  you  could  only  open  my  eyes." 

Then  the  old  gentleman  sang  as  before  very  slowly  ;  "  Oh  —  as  — 
to  —  that,  —  its —  of —  no  —  consequence,  —  for  —  you  —  said  — 
you  —  would'nt  —  want  —  any  —  thing  —  else  —  in  —  the  —  world 

—  but  —  books  " ;  and   he  shut  the  door  and   left   her  feeling  the 
pretty  bindings  and  dropping  bright  tears  on  the  rich  leaves. 

And  George  remained  in  his  room  with  his  shrivelled  hands  and 
his  money  ;  and  William  in  his  with  his  crippled  limbs,  listening  to 
the  trotting  of  his  full-blooded  horses  ;  and  Mary  in  hers,  deaf  with  her 
birds  singing  famously  around  her  ;  and  Susan  leaning  her  head  with 
her  blind  eyes  against  her  crystal  bookcase  weeping  for  a  whole  day. 

After  a  time  the  old  gentleman  knocked  at  George's  door,  and 
George,  glad  to  see  anybody,  said  "  Come  in." 

"  Do  —  you  —  wish  — you  —  had —  anything  —  else,  —  George  ? " 
he  sang. 

"  Oh,  yes,  sir,  one  thing  only ;  make  my  hands  well  and  strong 
again,  and  I  shall  be  satisfied  without  the  money  and  the  piles  of 
gold  and  silver  "  ;  so  the  old  gentleman  blew  upon  the  treasure  and 
it  disappeared  ;  and  then  upon  George's  hands  and  they  were  quite 
well  again,  and  they  both  went  into  William's  room. 


AND   OTHER    TALES.  247 

"  Is  —  there  —  anybody  —  in  —  here  —  wishing —  they  —  had — 
anything?" 

"  Oh,  no,  sir,"  exclaimed  William.  "  I  only  wish  to  be  as  I  once 
was ;  I  should  like  to  walk  freely  again,  and  I  should  be  willing  to 
give  up  all  the  horses " ;  so  he  flourished  his  stick  over  William 
three  times  and  then  out  of  the  windows  three  times,  and  the  horses 
and  the  lameness  disappeared,  and  William  gave  a  loud  hurrah  and 
then  all  three  went  to  Mary's  room. 

"  Can  —  I  —  do  —  anything  —  for  —  anybody  —  here  ? "  he 
bawled  with  a  loud  speaking  trumpet  at  Mary's  ear ;  "  does  —  any- 
body —  wish  —  for  —  more  —  cages  —  and  —  singing  —  birds  —  in 

—  here  ? " 

"  Oh,  no,  sir,"  said  poor  Mary ;  "  I  only  wish  to  hear  once  more  all 
that  is  going  on  about  me  and  to  lose  this  dead  life  of  deafness,  and 
I  'd  be  willing  never  to  see  the  singing  birds  again." 

So  the  old  gentleman  coughed  three  times  and  Mary's  deafness 
left  her,  and  the  birds  broke  up  the  cages  into  bits  and  flew  away, 
and  then  Mary  began  to  sing  herself  for  joy;  then  they  went  to  see 
about  poor  blind  Susan  leaning  against  the  crystal  bookcase  and 
crying. 

"  Poor  —  little  —  soul,"  sang  the  old  gentleman  in  a  sad  minor 
key,  while  shaking  his  white  beard  solemnly ;  "  she  —  is  —  very  —  sor- 
rowful, —  truly.  Little  —  Miss  —  Susan  "  ;  and  he  lifted  up  her 
bowed  head  and  looked  straight  into  her  sightless  eyes.  "  Can  —  I 

—  help  —  you  —  to-day  ?     Have  —  you  —  enjoyed  —  your  —  books, 

—  or  —  do  — you  —  wish  — you  •«—  had  —  anything  —  else,  —  my 

—  dear?" 

"  Oh,  sir,"  she  answered,  cl-asping  her  hands ;  "  don't  talk  to  me 
about  books,  please,  just  yet ;  only  let  me  see  my  dear  brothers  and 
sisters,  and  I  will  never  wish  for  a  grand  bookcase  again." 

It  was  very  pitiful  to  see  her,  and  so  the  old  gentleman  took  some 
blue  powder  out  of  a  paper  in  his  pocket  and  sprinkled  it  over  the 


248  FAIRY-LAND 


books  and  Susan's  eyes,  and  the  books  and  the  bookcase  all  turned 
to  ashes,  and  Susan  could  see  as  well  as  ever. 

Oh  !  how  delighted  they  all  were  at  feeling,  walking,  hearing  and 
seeing,  once  more.  Again  they  joined  hands  and  made  a  ring  round 
the  old  gentleman  and  were  very  joyful  indeed.  Then  he  asked  for 
a  pair  of  scissors  and  cut  off  a  long  piece  of  his  white  hair  and  gave 
it  to  each,  and  while  they  were  wondering  if  it  was  hair  or  blown 
glass,  bam,  bam,  bam,  went  his  stick,  and  the  floor  opened  and  down 
he  went,  the  children  thought  forever. 

"  How  strange,"  said  George  ;  "  what  a  funny  old  man." 

"  How  much  power  he  has,"  said  William  ;  "  how  rich  he  must  be. 
I  wish  I  had  as  much  —  " 

But  scarcely  were  the  words  out  of  his  mouth  than  the  floor 
opened  again,  and  out  popped  the  stranger's  head. 

"  Did  —  anybody  —  call  —  one  —  Mr.  —  Wishihad  ? "  they  heard 
him  sing ;  "  because  —  if  —  they  —  did,  —  he  —  can  —  come  —  at 

—  any  —  time." 

"  Oh,  no,  no,  no, "  they  said,  and  down  he  went  again. 

"  We  must  be  careful,"  said  Susan  gravely,  "  what  we  wish  for  and 
must  be  content  with  the  blessings  that  have  already  fallen  to  our 
lot.  At  any  rate,  I  suppose  there's  no  harm  done  when  I  merely  say 
I  wish  I  had  contentment." 

"  Not  —  much  —  harm,"  and  out  popped  the  head  again  ;  "  I  — 
certainly  —  heard  —  some  —  one  —  repeat  —  my  —  name  ;  —  oh,  — 
I  —  was  —  mistaken.  Well,  —  good-by,  —  nobody  —  wants  —  me, 

—  then?" 

"  No,  I  guess  we  don't,"  said  George,  looking  rather  frightened  at 
the  old  gentleman's  perseverance.  "  Come,  let  us  leave  the  room 
and  have  a  run  on  the  lawn,  it  is  much  "better  than  staying  in  here 
and  wishing  we  had  what  we  have  not." 

Then  they  all  went  out;  but  when  they  reached  the  stairs  they 
heard  somebody  calling  loudly  "  children ! "  and  they  went  back  once 


OUR  FATHER  WHO   ART  IN  HEAVEN. -Page  249. 


AND   OTHER    TALES. 


249 


more,  just  in  time  to  see  a  wave  of  the  old  gentleman's  hand  as  it 
disappeared  through,  the  floor,  and  to  catch  the  tones  of  a  departing, 
rumbling  voice,  the  burden  of  whose  song  was 

DON'T  —  WISH  —  You  —  HAD. 


OUR  FATHER  WHO  ART  IN  HEAVEN. 


OH,  Thou  our  Father  in  the  skies, 
Thy  blessed  name  we  praise, 

That  earth  may  be  as  pure  as  heaven, 
Upright  should  be  our  ways. 

Oh,  may  we  always  do  Thy  will, 

As  it  is  done  above, 
Still  send  to  us  our  daily  food 

And  bless  us  with  Thy  love. 

And  may  it  ever  be  our  care 
To  treat  a  foe  like  friend, 


And  so  thou  wilt  our  sins  forgive 
And  no  temptations  send. 

Keep  every  evil  from  our  path, 
The  whole-wide  earth  is  Thine, 

And  might  and  glory  come  Thee   from, 
Thou  art  alone  divine. 

Forever  and  forever  be 
Thy  praise  far  sounded  then, 

Till  all  the  earth  with  one  accord, 
Together  say,  Amen. 


MORNING  AND   EVENING   PRAYER. 


MORNING  PRAYER. 

I  THANK  thee,  God, 
For  rest  so  sweet, 

And  that  this  morn 
My  friends  I  meet 


EVENING  PRAYER. 
A  kind  "  good  night " 

To  all  I  love, 
Watch  them  and  me, 

Great  God  above. 


25O  FAIRY-LAND 


THE   WISH   GRANT'ED. 

IT  was  a  very  rainy  day.  Little  Isabel  had  read  until  she  was 
weary,  and  sewed  until  her  tired  fingers  refused  to  pull  the  needle 
through  her  work,  and  at  last  she  went  to  the  window  and  flattened 
her  little  nose  against  the  glass  pane.  She  did  not  know  that  any 
one  was  in  the  room,  but  some  one  was  ;  her  uncle,  a  rich  old  gentle- 
man, who  heard  her  say  softly  ;  "  oh,  I  do  wish  that  I  had  twenty 
dollars  ;  I  know  that  I  should  be  perfectly  happy  !  " 

"  Would  twenty  dollars  make  any  body  perfectly  happy  ?  well  here 
they  are,  Belle,  at  your  service." 

Isabel  could  scarcely  believe  that  he  was  in  earnest,  but  he  was, 
indeed. 

"Oh,  Uncle,  please  take  them  back.  I  am  afraid  that  you  are 
robbing  yourself." 

"  No,  my  darling,"  said  her  uncle.  "  I  have  hundreoh  and  can 
well  spare  twenty  dollars  ;  come,  my  little  lady,  sit  on  my  knee  and 
tell  me  what  you  are  going  to  do  with  your  fortune." 

Belle's  eyes  glistened  and  grew  larger  and  larger  with  surprise  and 
delight. 

"  Oh,"  said  she  as  she  sprung  upon  his  knees,  "  I  am  going  to  buy 
a  baby-house  and  a  rocking-horse  for  Willie,  and  some  books  and 
— but  Uncle,  just  come  with  me  to-morrow  and  see  what  I  will  buy." 

"Very  well,  Belle,  —  be  ready  at  twelve,  and  we  will  shop  to  your 
heart's  content." 

So  when  the  morrow  came,  Belle  put  on  her  gypsy  hat  and  laced 
her  pretty  gaiter  boots,  took  her  purse  which  contained  her  twenty 
dollars,  and  tripped  along  the  street  with  her  kind  uncle. 

Just  before  a  cake  shop,  peering  into  the  well  stocked  window, 
she  saw  two  ragged  little  boys  whose  hungry  eyes  looked  longingly  at 
the  nice  cream  cakes  and  rich  rolls  within. 


AND  OTHER   TALES.  2$1 

"  Oh,  uncle,  may  I  ? "  she  asked,  looking  towards  the  boys. 

"  Do  what  you  please,  Belle/'  said  her  uncle  ;  "  the  money  is  yours, 
not  mine." 

Then  Belle,  with  a  glad  smile,  took  a  gold  dollar  from  her  purse 
and  handing  it  to  the  boys,  said :  "  Here,  little  fellows,  take  this  and 
buy  some  cake." 

The  boys  stared  at  her  and  thought  that  she  was  only  in  fun ;  but, 
when  her  uncle  said,  "  take  it,"  they  scraped  and  bowed  at  a  great 
rate,  turned  the  money  over  and  over  again  and  at  last  disappeared 
in  the  cake  shop,  quite  wild  with  delight !  Belle  and  her  uncle 
watched  for  them  until  they  came  out,  and  at  last  saw  them  each 
with  a  bundle  ;  one  was  eating  a  cream  cake,  the  inside  of  which 
was  streaming  down  his  chin,  and  the  other  had  his  mouth  so  full 
that  he  could  not  utter  a  word  ;  but  they  both  looked  so  happy  that 
Belle  whispered  to  her  uncle :  "  Oh,  uncle,  is  n't  it  nice  to  have 
money  ? " 

"  Yes,  my  darling,"  said  the  old  man;  "  and  it  is  very  nice  to  give 
it  away." 

Belle  looked  back  once  more  at  the  little  ragged  boys,  and  could 
not  help  laughing  at  them ;  for  one  was  standing  on  his  head  with 
his  feet  against  a  fence,  and  the  other  was  turning  a  somerset  for 
very  joy. 

"Well,  where  now?" 

" To  the  toy  shop,  of  course" 

I  do  believe  that  Belle  did  not  know  or  care  about  any  other  shops 
in  the  world. 

"  Anything  in  my  store  that  pleases  your  fancy,  little  Miss  ? " 
asked  the  shopwoman. 

"  Everything,"  thought  Belle,  but  she  asked  first  to  see  some  din- 
ner and  tea-sets  put  up  in  little  white  boxes.  Real  china  they, were 
and  cost  a  great  deal.  Her  uncle  wanted  to  teach  her  not  to  be  ex- 
travagant, so  he  asked  her  if  a  blue  and  white  set,  less  valuable, 


252  FAIRY-LAND 


would  not  suit  her  as  well.  They  did  suit  her  and  she  bought  them 
for  one  dollar  and  a  quarter.  Then  she  wanted  some  dolls.  "  Oh, 
that  one  with  blue  eyes  and  flaxen  hair  was  a  love  of  a  doll ;  no 
matter  what  it  cost  she  must  have  it,"  she  said. 

Belle  was  growing  very  grand  with  her  riches  ;  so  when  the  shop- 
woman  told  her  that  it  could  open  and  shut  its  blue  eyes  by  pulling 
a  wire  and  that  it  cost  three  dollars,  she  laid  down  the  money  and 
took  it. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  name  your  doll  ? "  asked  her  uncle. 

"  Waxiana,  certainly,  uncle  ;  that  is  a  beautiful  name." 

"Well,  anything  more?"  asked  uncle. 

"  Yes,  next  on  the  list  is  a  rocking  horse  ;  that  will  be  about  three 
dollars,  for  mamma  told  me  so."  And  the  rocking  horse  was  bought, 
not  one  with  real  horse-hair  and  a  fine  flowing  tail,  costing  twenty 
dollars  all  by  itself,  but  a  wooden  one  about  a  yard  from  the  ground, 
upon  which  her  little  brother  could  jump  without  help. 

Then  she  bought  a  set  of  drawers  for  fifty  cents,  and  a  washstand 
with  a  pitcher  and  basin  for  seventy-five,  and  a  dolls'  looking-glass 
for  twenty-five. 

"  Now,  uncle,"  she  said  when  she  had  made  these  purchnses,  "  I 
want  to  make  you  a  present  and  I  must  give  you  something ;  what 
will  you  have  ?  " 

"  Plenty  of  your  smiles,  Belle,  nothing  more." 

"  Oh,  yes  ;  do  let  me  give  you  something." 

"  Well,  Belle,  you  may." 

"  I  should  like  to  give  you  a  paper-cutter  which  you  can  use  for  a 
book-mark  too."  So  the  shopwoman  brought  out  some,  and  Belle 
selected  a  very  pretty  one  costing  fifty  cents,  which  she  gave  to  her 
uncle.  Oh,  it  was  so  sweet  to  give  !  • 

By.  this  time  Belle  felt  very  hungry  and  proposed  to  lay  out  some 
of  her  money  in  ice  cream  and  cake,  to  which  her  uncle  readily 
assented. 


AKD   OTHER   TALES.  253 

Then  they  went  into  a  garden  where  they  sat  in  a  cool  arbor  with 
fountains  playing  about,  and  called  for  ice  and  cake. 

"  How  nice  it  is  to  treat  you,  uncle,"  she  said,  as  the  white  pyra- 
mid of  ice-cream  disappeared  through  her  rosy  lips.  "  I  feel  so  very 
grand." 

Her  uncle  smiled  sweetly  on  his  little  pet  and  felt  happie'r  than 
he  had  been  for  a  long  time,  for  it  made  him  so  to  see  her  joy. 

They  took  two  ice-creams  apiece,  and  the  cake  cost  twelve  and 
a  half  cents  ;  this  brought  her  bill  at  the  confectioner's  to  thirty- 
seven  and  a  half  cents. 

As  it  was  getting  late,  her  uncle  thought  that  she  had  better  go 
home  and  count  over  her  money,  returning  again  to  make  her  pur- 
chases ;  but  the  little  lady  pleaded  so  hard  to  go  to  a  bookstore  that 
he  granted  her  request. 

In  a  bookstore  money  goes  plentifully,  for  a  good  book  is  a  costly 
article ;  and  Bell  first  purchased  a  Bible  for  herself  for  which  she 
paid  two  dollars..  It  had  clear  large  type  and  gilt  leaves,  and  was 
well  worth  the  money ;  for  who  does  not  like  to  own  a  Bible  with 
large  print  ? 

Next  came  a  little  book  for  Bessie  who  was  learning  her  letters,  a 
nice  strong  primer  which  cost  twenty-five  cents.  Then  for  her  dear 
father  she  bought  a  beautiful  penknife,  one  dollar ;  and  portemonnaie 
for  her  mother,  one  dollar  also. 

Belle's  bill  was  mounting  up  so  fast  that  her  uncle  told  her  that 
she  might  overspend  her  money ;  but  she  shook  the  purse  and  told 
him  that  there  was  some  there  yet,  and  that  she  must  have  a  book 
of  Fairy  Tales  for  the  story  about  The  White  Cat  was  torn  out 
of  her  cousin  Tom's  book  ;  so  the  Fairy  Tales  were  bought  for  one 
dollar. 

Now  just  guess  how  much  Belle  found  that  she  had  spent  when 
she  reached  home.  I  will  put  down  all  the  things  for  you  and  then 
maybe  you  can  add  them  up  for  yourself. 


254 


FAIRY-LAND 


Ragged  boys     .        . 

$1    OO 

Confectionery   . 

•        •           37* 

Tea  set     .... 

I  25 

Bible 

.           2  OO 

Horse       .... 

3  oo 

Primer      .        . 

.          •               25 

Drawers   .... 

5° 

Penknife   . 

I   OO 

Washstand,   pitcher,   and 

Porte-monnaie  . 

I    00 

basin     .... 

75 

Fairy  book 

I    00 

Looking-glass 

25 

Paper-cutter 

So 

$12  8ji 

There,  you  see,  she  spent  twelve  dollars  eighty-seven  and  a  half 
cents,  and  had  just  seven  dollars  twelve  and  a  half  cents  left. 

How  impatiently  she  waited  until  the  evening  for  her  packages  to 
come,  you  little  readers  know  about  as  well  as  I  do.  She  took  up  a 
book  to  read,  but  Waxiana's  blue  eyes  seemed  to  gaze  at  her  from 
every  page.  She  took  out  her  sewing,  but  the  unfinished  story  of 
The  White  Cat  sent  her  thoughts  far  away  from  the  frill  which  she 
was  hemming. 

"  How  long  they  do  take  !  "  she  kept  saying. 

"Make  your  baby-house  look  nicely  for  the  jiew  lady  who  is 
coming,"  said  her  mamma,  "and  for  the  pitcher  and  basin  and 
drawers." 

So  Belle  went  up  stairs  and  set  the  house  in  order,  dusting  it 
nicely,  and  making  up  the  little  bed  with  clean  sheets,  and  putting 
on  a  fresh  pillow-case  with  a  tiny  ruffle  around  it.  Then  she  played 
that  there  was  a  fire  in  the  little  chimney-corner,  and  put  on  fresh 
sticks  to  welcome  Waxiana,  and  brightened  the  brass  andirons  until 
her  face  shone  broad  and  smiling  on  the  polished  surface. 

But  that  was  not  all !  She  went  to  her  mamma  for  some  sugar, 
cake  and  biscuit,  and  put  them  in  her  little  store-closet  in  the  dolls' 
house,  ready  for  the  new  comer. 

Now  I  must  tell  you  about  the  dolls'  house.  It  was  made  by 
James  Harris,  the  carpenter,  who  lived  near  her  father's,  and  to 
whom  her  father  and  mother  had  been  very  kind.  Little  Sukey 
Harris  had  the  scarlet  fever,  and  Belle's  mother  sent  a  good  physi- 


AMD  OTHER   TALES. 


cian  to  her,  paid  the  bill  when  she  got  well,  and  every  day  tempted 
the  little  girl,  who  was  recovering  slowly,  with  jellies  and  good  things. 

Out  of  gratitude,  James  made  a  complete  dolls'  house  for  Belle. 
It  was  three  stories  high.  The  upper  one  was  the  chamber,  the 
second,  the  dining-room  and  parlor  divided  in  two,  and  the  lower 
one,  the  kitchen.  Then  it  had  mantel-pieces  and  closets  and  fire- 
places ;  and  the  parlor  was  carpeted  and  everything  was  just  like  a 
real  house. 

•  No  doubt,  then,  Miss  Waxiana  would  be  glad  to  see  what  a  nice, 
place  she  was  going  to  live  in  and  be  mistress  of. 

After  Belle  had  arranged  everything  to  her  liking,  she  took  the 
cook  from  the  kitchen,  where  she  had  been  standing  straight  and 
stiff  against  the  wall,  put  a  nice  apron  on  her,  and  made  her  look 
very  tidy  for  her  new  mistress. 

"  Now,  Binah,"  she  said,  "  you  must  behave  well  when  Miss  Wax- 
iana comes  ;  you  must  do  your  duty  as  a  cook ;  never  send  anything 
into  the  house  burnt  or  smoked ;  always  have  your  coffee  of  a  bright 
brown,  and  never  allow  your  green  tea  to  boil.  Then  your  breakfast 
cakes  must  never  be  heavy,  for  heavy  cakes  are  very  unhealthy ; 
and,  above  all  things,  always  keep  a  nice  kitchen;  so  nice,  that 
when  the  lady  of  the  house  comes  to  show  you  how  to  prepare  any 
delicate  little  tit-bit  from  the  receipt-book,  she  will  not  soil  her 
dress  nor  her  hands." 

No  doubt  Binah  promised  everything ;  for  when  Belle  put  her 
back  again,  standing  against  the  kitchen  wall,  she  looked  like  a  very 
proper  cook,  and  as  if  there  was  nothing  in  her  department  that  she 
could  not  do  except  to  sit  down. 

There  was  one  little  trial,  however,  that  Belle  had  to  go  through ; 
she  did  almost  with  tears  :  it  was  to  tell  her  old  doll,  Clementine, 
that  a  new  lady  was  coming,  very  grand  and  elegant,  who  would 
take  her  place  as  mistress  of  the  house  ;  and  that  she,  Clementine, 
must  in  future  be  the  house-maid. 


256  FAIRY-LAND 


Indeed,  it  was  quite  a  trial  "to  Belle  ;  but  what  could  be  done  ? 
Clementine  had  once  been  quite  a  handsome  doll ;  but  now  her 
nose  was  broken  short  off;  the  mice  had  bitten  off  four  of  her 
fingers,  and  one  of  her  eyes  had  sunk  so  far  into  her  head,  that  it 
was  impossible  to  bring  it  back  to  its  place  again ;  and,  indeed,  at 
every  attempt  of  Belle's  to  bring  it  forward  with  a  pair  of  scissors,  it 
went  farther  and  farther  back. 

"  Yes,"  said  Belle,  softly  and  tearfully,  "  it  would  not  do  for  you 
•to  remain  seated  in  the  parlor  when  Waxiana  comes,  Clementine  " 
(while  she  made  a  final  attempt  at  the  lost  eye,  more  unsuccessful 
than  any  yet,  for  it  disappeared  altogether  in  some  deep  recess  .of 
head  or  neck),  "  you  really  are  handsome  no  more  ;  but  you  are  very 
dear  to  me  still,  and  I  am  sure  that  you  will  do  your  duty  as  house- 
maid. After  you  have  done  your  work  you  must  go  into  the  kitchen 
with  the  cook.  I  am  sure  that  she  is  a  very  agreeable  cook  ;  and 
though  it  will  be  very  hard  at  first,  you  poor  one-eyed  creature,  to  be 
a  servant  where  you  have  been  queen,  yet,  as  mamma  says,  there 
must  be  ups  and  downs  in  this  world,  you  know." 

So  Clementine  took  her  seat  in  the  kitchen,  for  she  could  sit, 
though  the  cook  could  not,  and  Belle  fancied  that  she  saw  a  tear 
dropping  from  her  remaining  eye.  Belle  cried  a  little  to  see  her 
there  so  forlorn  ;  but,  then,  what  could  she  do  ?  It  passed  through 
her  mind  that  she  would  put  her  to  bed,  and  play  that  she  was  sick 
all  the  time  ;  but  then  that  would  hide  the  sweet,  ruffled  pillow-case ; 
so  after  all,  when  she  had  dusted  the  last  speck  of  dust  from  the 
mahogany  centre-table,  and  given  one  final  glance  to  see  if  all  was 
in  order,  she  heard  a  ring  at  the  street-bell.  It  was  a  gentle,  timid 
ring,  —  not  a  thundering  one,  such  as  would  denote  that  her  package 
had  come  ;  but  Belle  leaped  down  stairs,  and  met  the  servant  com- 
ing in,  not  with  her  bundle  but  empty  handed. 

"  Well,  Sarah,"  she  said,  "  who  is  it  ?  what  is  it  ? " 

"  Oh,  Miss  Belle,  it  is  only  a  poor  woman  with  a  baby  in  her 


AND   OTHER    TALES. 


arms,  come  to  beg  ;  and  I  told  her  that  I  would  let  mistress  know 
and  maybe  she  would  give  her  some  money." 

Some  money  !  "  Ah  !  "  thought  little  Belle  ;  "  why  could  not  I 
give  her  some  money  top,  to  buy  a  dress  for  the  baby  and  some 
bread  for  herself?"  So  she  went  to  the  door  and  told  the  woman 
to  come  in  and  take  a  seat  in  the  hall. 

Belle  saw  at  a  glance  that  she  was  very  poor  and  sick  too  ;  and 
the  baby,  though  sleeping  calmly,  had  a  look  of  death  about  its 
white  face. 

"  Poor  little  thing  !  "  said  Belle  ;  "  is  it  sick  ?  " 

.  "  Not  so  much  sick,  little  Miss,"  said  the  woman,  "  as  hungry.  I 
am  too  sick  myself  to  work  ;  my  husband  died  last  week  with  the 
fever,  and  it  is  the  only  comfort  I  have  in  the  world  to  think  that 
baby  and  I.  will  soon  follow  him." 

"  Oh,  no,  no,  poor  woman  !  "  Belle  answered,  with*  tearful  eyes  ;. 
"  mamma  will  give  you  victuals  and  clothes  ;  I  will  go  and  ask  her 
now."  So  off  she  ran  and  met  Sarah  coming  from  the  pantry  with  a 
plate  of  bread  and  meat,  and  a  bowl  of  milk  for  the  baby,  while  her 
mother  followed  and  told  the  poor  woman  to  go  into  the  kitchen  by 
the  fire  and  eat  some  food. 

The  poor  woman's  eyes  glistened  when  she  saw  the  nice  white 
bread  and  milk  for  the  baby,  and  went  into  the  kitchen  as  Belle's 
mother  had  told  her.  Then  she  woke  the  baby,  who  uttered  a  sharp 
cry  of  pain  ;  and  before  she  eat  a  morsel  herself  she  fed  the  little 
sufferer,  who  soon  smiled  on  Belle  and  played  with  the  ribbon  on 
her  silk  apron. 

Then  the  poor  woman  ate  heartily  and  Belle's  mother  came  in  to 
hear  her  story.  It  was  a  very  sad  one  and  she  was  so  interested  in 
the  woman  and  thought  the  little  baby  so  pretty,  that  she  told  her, 
as  she  said  she  was  a  good  seamstress,  to  come  and  live  in  a  nice 
room  in  her  yard  and  she  would  give  her  work  to  do. 

How  happy  the  woman  looked  at  this  kindness  ;  and  Belle's  mother 
17 


FAIRY-LAND 


gave  her  some  money  to  pay  a  man  to  bring  her  trunk  to  the 
house. 

The  woman  departed  with  many  thanks,  but  just  as  she  got  out- 
side the  door  she  heard  a  little  voice  saying,  "  Stop  a  minute,  here  is 
something  to  buy  you  and  the  baby  some  nice  dresses."  The  woman 
turned  and  there  was  Belle  with  two  gold  dollars  which  she  dropped 
into  her  hand.  She  had  then  four  dollars  and  twelve  cents  left. 

"  God  will  reward  you,"  she  said,  softly,  "  in  giving  to  the  widow  and 
fatherless  "  ;  and  Belle  felt  when  she  turned  to  go  back  into  the  house 
that  not  one  of  her  purchases  had  made  her  so  happy  as  those  heart- 
felt words.  Besides,  though  she  did  not  know  it,  her  uncle  was 
peeping  at  her  through  the  parlor  blinds  and  blessed  her  over  and 
over  again  for  the  kind  and  thoughtful  act. 

Before  Belle  had  quite  seated  herself  in  her  little  chair  by  the 
window,  there'  was  another  ring,  and  the  books  arrived.  How  pleas- 
ant it  was  to  open  the  package  to  give  to  her  little  sister  her  primer, 
and  to  her  father  and  mother  their  presents,  to  cover  her  new  book 
with  a  sheet  of  white  paper,  and  lastly,  to  sit  down  to  finish  the  story 
of  the  White  Cat. 

But  before  she  had  bent  many  minutes  over  the  book,  the  bell 
rang  again,  and  in  came  a  basket  from  the  toy  shop  filled  with  her 
purchases.  Everybody  came  to  look  at  them  and  there  was  quite  a 
little  crowd  collected  around  as  Belle  opened  her  treasures ;  her 
father,  mother,  uncle,  brother,  little  sister  and  the  housemaid,  while 
the  cook,  with  her  hands  full  of  flour  and  a  white  apron  on,  peeped 
in  at  the  door,  and  even  a  little  kitten's  bright  eyes  looked  admiringly 
upon  the  scene. 

Everybody  admired  everything,  and  Waxiana  was  handed  about 
and  her  curling  hair  and  blue  eyes  praised  very  much.  Charlie  was 
so  delighted  with  the  rocking  horse  that  he  could  not  be  tempted  to 
get  off  of  it,  and  when  the  servant  came  for  him  to  get  his  supper 
and  put  him  to  bed  she  found  that  he  had  gone  to  sleep  sitting  up- 


AND   OTHER   TALES.  •,       259 

right,  and  if  she  had  not  taken  him  in  her  arms  he  would*  have 
fallen  off. 

Then  Belle  took  Waxiana  and  the  drawers,  the  looking-glass  and 
the  watch-stand  to  the  dolls'  house,  and  put  them  in  their  .proper 
places.  Waxiana  looked  delighted  at  everything  and  never  ceased 
smiling  with  her  crimson  lips  and  staring  with  her  blue  eyes  until 
Belle  took  off  her  fine  gauze  dress  and  putting  one  of  Clementine's 
best  night-gowns  on  her,  shut  her  eyes  and  placed  her  beautiful  curly 
head  on  the  ruffled  pillow  till  the  next  morning.  Then  she  told 
Clementine  to  be  sure  to  be  up  bright  and  early  and  the  cook  to 
prepare  one  of  her  best  breakfasts,  shut  the  door  of  the  dolls'  house 
and  went  down  to  her  fairy  tale  of  the  White  Cat. 

"  Well,  Belle,"  said  her  uncle,  "  shall  we  go  out  again  to-morrow  to 
finish  our  purchases  ? " 

"  No,  uncle,"  she  answered,  "  I  have  been  thinking  about  it.  I 
find  that  I  have  about  four  dollars  left.  That  I  will  not  spend  just 
yet  but  will  keep  it  and  see  what  I  really  want,  and  maybe,  too,  some 
poor  people  may  come  to  beg,  and  if  I  spend  it  all  I  will  have  no 
more  to  give." 

"  You  are  right,  my  darling,"  he  answered ;  "  if  you  make  such 
a  good  use  of  your  money  always  as  you  have  of  your  twenty  dollars, 
it  will  be  a  pleasure  to  give  you  more." 

Belle  finished  the  story  and  went  to  bed,  dreaming  that  night  of 
wax  dolls  and  poor  women  and  kind  uncles  and  one-eyed  servant- 
maids,  all  mixed  up  in  grand  confusion. 

I  cannot  close  this  little  story  without  wishing  that  all  my  readers 
had  such  rich  and  kind  uncles,  and  were  such  good  children  as  our 
Belle. 


260 


FAIRY-LAND 


THE   LITTLE   GARDEN. 


"  COME  see  my  little  garden," 

I  heard  sweet  Mary  say, 
"  A  white  fence  circles  round  it 

To  guard  the  flowerets  gay." 

And  by  the  hand  she  led  me 
Around  each  verdant  bed, 

"  Now,  this  is  bright  verbena, 
And  this  a  Pink,"  she  said. 

"And  those  that  seem  so  common 
Are  Four-o'clocks,  you  know, 

They  're  closely  shut  at  morning, 
And  bright  at  evening  blow. 

"  There,  hides  a  blue-eyed  Violet 
Beneath  a  rare  Tea  Rose ; 

And  yonder  stately  flowers 
Are  Dahlias  set  in  rows. 

"  And  there,  around  the  railing, 
With  tendrils  green  and  fine, 

I've  trained  with  care  and  patience, 
An  upward-climbing  Vine. 

"  This  little  plant  so  crimson, 
With  that  so  pearly  white, 

Is  called  a  Lady's  Slipper  — 
But  'twould  not  fit  one  quite. 

"  And  here's  a  bending  Willow, 
Its  drooping  branches  wave 

Just  like  the  tree,  that  watches 
O'er  Charlie's  little  grave." 

That  name   brought  tears  like  dew 

drops 
Upon  her  rosy  cheek, 


And  then  she  tried  to  wipe  them, 
And  cheerfully  to  speak. 

She  told  me  many  a  story 
About  this  plant  or  that, 

While  near  her  little  garden 
Upon  the  grass  we  sat,  — 

That  humming  birds  so  tiny 
Came  sipping  honey  there, 

And  joyous  bees  went  buzzing 
Among  the  blossoms  fair  ; 

And  that  in  summer  evenings 
Befote  the  sun  sank  low, 

When  home  the  cattle  wandered 
In  herds  with  footsteps  slow  — 

That  when  each  little  birdiing 
Sought,  twittering,  his  nest, 

And  all  the  sky  was  crimsoned, 
With  sunset  in  the  west  — 

She'd  wander  to  her  garden 
To  tell  the  flowers  '  good  night,' 

And  bid  them  be  up  early 
To  greet  the  morrow's  light 

And  as  her  bright  smile  lightened 
Her  pure  and  lovely  face, 

And  while  her  every  gesture 
Was  full  of  youthful  grace  ; 

I  thought,  sweet  is  your  garden, 
Its  pretty  blossoms  too ; 

But,  ah,  no  flower  within  it 
Is  half  so  sweet  as  you. 


AND   OTHER    TALES.  26 1 


TEN    STOPS. 

WHEN  you  are  going  to  say  an  unkind  word  to  your  brother  or 
sister  —  stop ! 

When  you  are  going  to  say  what  is  not  true  —  stop  ! 

When  you  are  going  to  be  cross  to  your  nurse  —  stop  ! 

When  you  are  going  to  do  what  your  father  and  mother  have  told 
you  not  to  do  —  stop  ! 

When  you  are*going  to  take  anything  which  does  not  belong  to 
you  —  stop  ! 

When  you  are  hurrying  away  from  a  poor  child  who  asks  you  for 
something  to  eat  —  stop  ! 

When  you  are  going  to  say  something  against  another  person  — 
stop  ! 

When  you  are  going  to  break  the  holiness  of  the  Sabbath  day  — 
stop  ! 

When  you  are  going  to  deceive  any  one  in  any  way  —  stop  ! 

When  you  are  going  to  do  that  which  you  know  God  would  not 
approve  of —  stop ! 


THE   SCHOOL-GIRLS'   QUARREL. 

ONE  day  a  teacher  picked  up  in  the  school-room  a  note  which 
contained  these  words  from  one  school-girl  to  another  :  — 

"  Miss  SMITH,  — 

"  I  rejoice  to  say  that  I  have  quarrelled  with  you  ;  I  do  not  like 
you  at  all,  and*  I  hope  that  you  will  never  come  to  my  house  again. 
You  have  said  words  that  I  cannot  forget ;  and  as  long  as  there  is  a 


262  FAIRY-LAND 


sun  in  the  heavens  or  water  in  the  ocean,  I  will  rimer  speak  to  you 
again. 

"  Yours  (not  at  all  in  kindness), 

"FRANCES  PRATT." 

"  These  are  fierce  words,"  thought  the  teacher :  "  too  strong,  in- 
deed, for  one  school-girl  to  use  to  another,  or,  indeed,  for  any  one 
to  use.  I  must  try  and  make  up  this  quarrel,  and  I  will  watch  these 
two  girls  well."  So  when  they  came  back  again  the  next  clay,  she 
inquired  all  about  it. 

Cordelia  Smith,  it  appears,  had  told  one  of  the  other  girls  that 
Frances  Pratt  was  a  disagreeable  girl,  and  Frances  had  heard  it. 
Now,  as  Cordelia  and  Frances,  before  these  words  had  been  said, 
had  been  the  best  friends  in  the  world,  always  sitting  together, 
always  helping  each  other  with  difficult  tasks,  always  sharing  their 
good  things  at  lunch-time,  it  was  a  wonder  that  they,  of  all  people, 
should  have  fallen  out.  They  were  both  wrong,  I  think ;  Cordelia, 
to  say  what  she  did,  and  Frances  to  resent  it  by  such  a  harsh  note  to 
her  friend  ;  she  should  rather  have  showed  by  her  pretty  and  gentle 
ways,  that  there  was  no  truth  in  the  offending  words,  and  thus  have 
led  Cordelia  to  think  differently  ;  but  this  was  not  to  be. 

The  girls  passed  each  other  by  in  lofty  disdain  ;  and  even  though 
they  sat  at  the  same  desk  in  school,  they  scarcely  looked  at  each 
other,  though  in  the  heart  of  each  there  was  a  desire  to  be  friends 
again.  Frances  was  the  best  arithmetician,  though  Cordelia  was 
the  best  parser  in  school ;  and  now,  instead  of  assisting  each  other, 
they  either  applied  to  some  other  girl,  or  recited  their  lessons  in 
each  branch  imperfectly.  The  kind  teacher  reasoned  with  both,  but 
with  no  effect.  She  could  not  make  Cordelia  take  back  her  words, 
nor  could  she  make  Frances  say  that  she  was  sorry  that  the  note 
had  been  written ;  so  she  concluded  that  she  would  let  things  take 
their  course  for  a  while,  as  continually  bringing  the  quarrel  into 
notice  would  make  it  more  lasting,  and  then  trust  to  chance  and 


AND   OTHER    TALES.  263 


time  to  bring  about  a  reconciliation  ;  and,  true  enough,  it  all  hap- 
pened as  she  wished. 

It  was  quite  a  rainy  morning,  one  day,  and  very  few  of  the 
scholars  had  come  to  school ;  but  Frances  and  Cordelia  were  among 
those  who  were  present.  The  rain  and  mud  which  had  been  brought 
in  upon  the  scholars'  feet  had  rendered  the  steps  which  led  down 
stairs  into  the  entry  quite  slippery ;  and  as  Cordelia  was  going  down 
stairs,  she  slipped  and  fell,  uttering  a  sharp  cry  of  pain,  for  she  had 
hurt  her  ankle  very  badly.  Frances,  who  was  sitting  near  the  door, 
alone  heard  the  cry,  not  knowing,  however,  that  it  was  Cordelia  who 
had  fallen,  and  hastened  to  the  assistance  of  the  sufferer.  When  she 
saw  who  it  was,  she  half  turned  back  ;  but  she  could  not  long  keep 
her  resolution,  for  Cordelia  gave  her  a  beseeching  look,  as  .if  to  say, 
"  I  am  in  pain ;  do  come ! "  and  half  forgetting  their  quarrel,  she 
hastened  towards  her.  "  At  any  rate,"  thought  she,  "  I  can  help  her 
without  saying  one  word,  and  I'll  try  very  hard  not  to  speak."  She 
then  raised  Cordelia  up  and  supported  her  to  a  seat;  then  she 
bathed  her  ankle  in  silence  and  rubbed  it  gently  ;  and  when  she 
had  done  all  that  she  knew  how,  still  as  mute  as  a  statue,  she  rose 
to  go,  but  Cordelia  caught  her  hand  and  held  it  fast. 

"  Frances,"  she  said,  "  speak  to  me  !  Say  something,  even  if  you 
say  an  unkind  word  ;  only  do  break  this  chilling  silence  ! " 

"  I  wonder  you  want  disagreeable  people  to  speak  to  you !  "  an- 
swered Frances,  trying  to  draw  herself  away. 

"  Oh,  you  are  not  disagreeable  !  "  sobbed  Cordelia ;  "  I  was  very, 
very  wrong  to  say  so  !  How  gentle  you  have  been  —  how  patient 
with  my  sprained  ankle  !  Oh,  I  will  take  back  that  word  now,  at 
once  ! " 

Then  Frances'  eyes  brightened,  and  she  said,  "And  I  will  take 
back  the  words  of  my  note  most  willingly." 

And  so,  in  the  new-found  pleasure  of  making  up,  in  the  recitation 
of  a  hundred  little  things  which  had  happened  to  each  since  their 


264  FAIRY-LAND 


estrangement,  they  almost  forgot  school  and  rose  to  go  back  again, 
Frances  supporting  Cordelia  as  she  walked  ;  and  as  they  entered  the 
room,  with  their  arms  twined  around  each  other,  the  scholars  smiled 
with  pleasure,  and  their  teacher  did  not  blame  them  for  whispering  a 
few  kind  words  to  each  other,  for  she  knew  the  sweet  pleasure  that 
she  had  had  once  in  her  own  youth,  of  a  reconciliation  after  a  school- 
girls' quarrel. 


THE   WIND. 

"  Say,  where  are  you  going,  where  are  you  going, 

Fickle  Wind  ? 
What  do  you  see  when  you're  roaming  about, 

And  what  find?" 

"  I  go  on  the  waves  and  I  play  with  the  sea 

And  the  foam ; 

And  I  fill  the  white  sheets  of  the  glittering  sails 
When  I  roam. 

"  Then  I  fly  to  the  woods  and  I  toy  with  the  leaves 

On  the  trees ; 

And  I  sing  as  I  go  —  you  have  heard  of  the  song, 
Of  the  breeze  ? 

"  Then  I  whistle  a  tune  on  the  old  house  top 

When  it  rains, 
And  I  shake  like  a  rattle,  with  terrible  din, 

The  loose  panes. 

"  And  I  sigh  'mid  the  flowers  and  bend  their  slight  stems 

To  the  ground  ; 

Then  quietly  sinking  to  rest,  in  some  cave 
I  am  found. 


AND   OTHER    TALES. 


265 


"  Then  I  wake  and  touch  softly  your  neat,  shining  hair 

Boy  or  girl, 

And  I  lurk  like  a  fairy  among  the  bright  rings 

Of  each  curl. 

"  I  am  fickle,  I  know,  but  remember,  I  now 

Promise  this  — 

When  the  summer  comes  round  I  will  cool  your  hot  brow 

With  a  kiss." 


THE  BIRD   THAT  FLEW  IN  THROUGH  THE  WINDOW. 

A  MEMORY. 


IT  left  the  woods,  the  quiet  woods, 

Poor  frightened  little  bird, 
And  the  beating  of  its  restless  wings, 

Against  the  walls  I  heard, 

I  opened  wide  the  windows  all 
To  aid  its  homeward  flight, 

And  said,  "poor  bird,  go  to  your  home 
Before  the  coming  night" 

But  the  beating  of  its  restless  wings 
And  the  wild  glance  of  its  eye, 

And  the  continual,  troubled  chirp, 
Was  all  the  sad  reply. 

I  was  a  child,  my  heart  was  full, 
I  thought,  "  Why  comes  it  here, 

It  flies  as  if  pursued  by  foes, 
Oh,  wherefore  does  it  fear  ? " 

We   tried  through  casements  opened 
wide, 

To  drive  it  to  its  nest, 
But  still  against  the  ceiling  high, 

It  flew  in  its  unrest 


"And  could  you  speak,"  I  said  with  tears, 

"  And  tell  the  tale  to  me, 
That  brought  you  to  these  prison  walls, 

Far  from  the  woods  to  flee,  — 

"  Would  you  but  sing  one  joyous  note, 
And  change  that  suffering  tone, 

To  say  'twas  not  unhappiness 
That  brought  you  here  alone  ? 

"  And  let  me  smooth  your  ruffled  wings 

And  gently  bid  you  go, 
Then  I  might  smile  and  welcome  you, 

But  ah,  not  now  —  not  so  ! 

"  Suppose  that  I,  dear  little  bird, 
By  grief  and  anguish  toss'd, 

Were  wandering  through  the   dismal 

woods 
A  child  forlorn  and  lost ; 

"  And  that  my  father,  mother  dear, 
With  sorrow  deep  and  wild, 

Were  weeping  for  their  truant  one,  — 
Their  lonely,  lonely  child  ; 


266 


FAIRY- LAND 


"  Suppose  that  with  the  briers  sharp, 

I  tore  my  tender  feet, 
And  that  my  aching  head  like  yours, 

I  'gainst  the  hard  trees  beat,  — 

"  Would  I  not  thank  the  gentle  hand 

That  set  the  captive  free  ? 
Oh,  yes  ;  sweet  little  bird,  now  go 

And  even  thus  thank  me" 

But  'twas  in  vain  ;  we  could  not  reach 

The  tender  suffering  thing, 
And  through  the  long,  long  summer  day, 

Its  piercing  cry  did  ring. 

"  O  bird,  O  bird  !  "  I  weeping  said, 
"  Was  there  no  rest  for  you 

Beside  the  deep  stream's  quiet  flow, 
Or  by  the  violet  blue  ? 

"  Was  there  no  peace  upon  the  tree 
Where  stood  your  downy  nest, 

And  did  it  not  a  refuge  give 

To  calm  your  throbbing  breast  ? 


"  Was  not  the  whisper  of  the  wind 

A  melody  for  you, 

As   through   the     tall    pine's    rustling 
boughs 

With  mournful  sound  it  blew  ?  " 

In    thoughts    like    these,  in    childish 
thoughts, 

I  questioned  oft  the  bird  ; 
But  still  that  melancholy  pipe 

My  saddest  feeling  stirred. 

I  held  my  little  apron  wide, 

To  catch  it  should  it  fall, 
And  often  tried  to  imitate 

The  mother-bird's  shrill  call. 

I  brought  a  branch  of  fragrant  green 

To  tempt  it  to  alight, 
But  ah  !  vain  my  endeavors  were,  — 

It  quickened  still  its  flight, 

Until  at  twilight's  misty  hour, 

When  hopelessly  I  cried, 
It  fell  unanswering  at  my  feet 

And  there  in  silence  died. 


THE    BROKEN    NECKLACE; 

OR,   THE  FALSEHOOD. 

I  SHALL  never  forget  Lilly  Manvers !  She  was  like  a  dream  of 
beautiful  girlhood.  Her  very  name  was  a  spell  that  awoke  a  thou- 
sand pleasant  recollections  in  the  hearts  of  her  school-fellows. 
Her  parents  were  poor,  and  when  they  looked  on  their  child  and 
saw  the  rich  treasures  of  her  mind  daily  opening  under  the  influence 
of  her  instructors,  they  denied  themselves  even  the  comforts  of  life 


AND   OTHER    TALES.  267 

» 
to  perfect  her  education  in  the  excellent  school  to  which  they  had 

sent  her,  in  order  to  make  her  a  companion  for  them  in  their  old 
age.  They  had  commenced  life  with  wealth,  but  the  old  story  of  a 
contested  inheritance  involved  them  in  a  lawsuit  which  promised  a 
favorable  issue  ;  but  when  their  hopes  were  about  to  be  realized,  the 
persons  interested  on  the  other  side  procured  false  witnesses,  and 
they  saw  their  whole  property  swept  away.  The  law  determined  the 
affair  against  them  ;  but  the  world  in  general,  who  had  seen  the 
transaction,  was  convinced  of  the  justness  of  Dr.  Manvers'  claim, 
and  his  freedom  from  the  cruel  charge  which  was  brought  against 
him,  —  that  of  fraudulent  attempts  to  retain  the  property  which 
belonged  not  to  him.  Thus  they  were  bereft  of  all  but  each  other's 
society  and  that  of  their  child,  which  solaced  them  for  their  broken 
dream  of  the  past. 

And  Lilly?  Her  golden  ringlets  played  about  her  head  like  a 
halo,  and  many  a  time  have  I  smoothed  their  glossy  brightness 
around  my  finger  with  a  feeling  of  love  which  I  thought  could  never 
fade  away.  There  was  a  look  of  trust  in  her  deep  blue  eyes,  and  an 
innocent  expression  in  her  child-like  smile,  which  few  could  with- 
stand. Oh,  what  great  friends  we  were  !  People  called  us  Night 
and  Morning ;  for  they  said  that  my  pale  face  and  black  hair,  near 
her  brilliant  and  aurora-like  countenance,  were  a  strange  contrast ; 
and  as  the  years  of  childhood  passed  away,  we,  who  were  linked 
together  by  the  sweet  ties  of  friendship,  wished  that  life  might  ever 
continue  thus.  I  sigh  when  I  think  of  the  past,  and  I  shudder  when 
I  reflect  how  one  fault  can  make  us  unhappy  forever  •  and  I  tell  this 
tale  of  early  sin,  overcome  though  it  may  have  been  by  years  of  pen- 
itence, more  for  its  moral  instruction  than  aught  else.  Yes,  those 
blue  eyes  deceived,  those  bright  lips  deceived,  that  pure-seeming  heart 
deceived. 

I  remember  the  day,  as  if  it  were  but  yesterday,  when  there  first 
arose  in  my  mind  a  doubt  of  her  !  I  was  sitting  on  the  grass,  weav- 


268  FATRY-LAND 


ing  a  garland  of  gay  flowers  for  her  hair,  when  I  perceived  her  run- 
ning towards  me.  Down  she  fell  upon  the  smooth  sward  by  me, 
and,  half  laughing  and  half  crying,  told  me  her  joyous  story. 

"  Carry,"  said  she,  throwing  her  arms  around  me  with  an  embrace 
even  more  vehement  than  usual,  "  put  down  that  wreath  and  hear 
me  talk.  Do  you  hear  ?  We  are  so  happy  at  home,  for  uncle  has 
come,  —  far,  far  from  distant  lands  !  from  the  deserts  of  Ethiopia, 
maybe  !  "  said  she,  laughing  ;  "  and  he  has  brought,  —  Oh,  so  many 
beautiful  things  for  his  '  Lilly  of  the  Valley,'  as  he  calls  me,  that  I 
am  almost  wild  with  joy !  But  he  is  very  sad,  for  he  has  lost  aunt 
Mary,  and  four  dear  children  of  his  have  died  abroad.  He  has  so 
much  need  of  love  and  comfort,  that  he  wants  me  to  be  his  own 
Lilly  till  he  dies." 

The  few  tears  which  coursed  down  Lilly's  cheeks  were  soon  dried, 
and  we  hastened  on  to  the  house  to  see  the  beautiful  presents.  I 
think  now,  but  I  did  not  think  then,  that  she  seemed  to  be  more 
overjoyed  at  the  sight  of  the  rich  articles  than  at  the  meek,  subdued- 
looking  old  man,  who  showed  by  his  face  and  form  that  a  storm  of 
grief  had  passed  over  him.  He  gazed  at  her  for  a  while  in  silence 
and  tears,  and  then,  with  a  sudden  impulse,  clasped  her  to  his 
breast,  murmuring  some  words  about  how  they  would  have  enjoyed 
the  bright  array  of  costly  gifts.  Lilly  was  scarcely  happy  in  his 
heart-felt  embrace,  for  she  seemed  too  glad  in  her  newly-acquired 
treasures  to  be  interested  in  anything  else.  She  twisted  a  silver- 
fringed  scarf  around  her  head,  and  tied  a  costly  shawl  about  her 
waist  with  the  air  of  an  empress,  and  walked  proudly  to  the  mirror 
to  behold  her  curious  and  gorgeous  appearance.  I  thought  that  she 
had  never  appeared  half  so  lovely  before  ;  but  as  I  turned  to  the 
mirror,  I  perceived  that  the  vanity  was  in  earnest ;  and  from  the  first 
vain  act,  unchecked,  there  arose  a  root  of  bitterness  which  made  her 
girlhood,  for  a  time,  a  blight,  and  her  heart  old.  Her  father  and 
mother  were  looking  the  happiness  they  could  not  find  words  to 


AND   OTHER   TALES.  269 


express.  It  seemed  as  if  their  cup  was  suddenly  running  over  with 
joy,  for  their  broken-hearted  brother  was  to  find  refuge  and  a  home 
with  them,  and  had  brought  with  him  luxuries  and  wealth  for  their 
beloved  child. 

The  time  arrived  for  my  return  home,  and  Lilly  volunteered  to 
walk  half  way  back  with  me.  As  soon  as  we  left  the  door-steps  our 
talk  commenced,  and  our  hearts,  mine,  at  least,  opened. 

"  How  delicious  it  must  be  to  be  rich  !  "  said  I,  with  a  burst  of 
girlish  enthusiasm;  "one  could  feed  the  hungry,  clothe  the  poor, 
and  do  all  kinds  of  pleasant  things ;  and  then  how  glad  you  have 
been  made,  Lilly,  by  your  uncle's  presents  ;  but,  seriously,  do  you 
think  that  if  he  had  come  poor  and  happy  instead  of  wealthy  and 
miserable,  that  your  feelings  would  have  been  the  same  ? " 

"  Pooh !  "  replied  Lilly,  with  contempt ;  "  certainly,  certainly  ;  but 
you  are  always  asking  strange  questions,  and  giving  old-fashioned 
lectures  about  right  and  about  wrong,  which  would  sound  better  in 
the  pulpit  than  they  do  to  me,  your  one  hearer.  I  wish  you  would 
let  such  things  alone." 

"  Then,  my  dear  Lilly,"  continued  I,  unmindful  of  the  interruption, 
and  proceeding  with  my  sermon,  as  she  thought  it,  "  you  must  take 
this  singular  good  fortune  as  a  gift  from  God,  and  reflect  that  you 
have  the  means  in  your  power  of  making  your  poor  uncle  once  more 
smile  happily,  and  by  your  kind  attentions  to  him  enable  him  to 
forget  his  own  sorrows.  It  would  be  a  noble  work,"  said  I,  warming 
up,  and  feeling  all  the  romance  of  such  an  undertaking. 

"  I  will  do  all  I  can,"  interrupted  Lilly ;  "  and  now  let  us  talk 
about  the  party." 

At  that  word  party,  my  own  thoughts  wandered  far  away  from  the 
solemn  old  man.  Yes  !  I  was  going  to  give  a  party  on  my  fourteenth 
birthday ;  and  we  were  to  have  dancing  and  tableaux,  and  fun  and 
frolic,  and  good  things.  The  prospect  seemed  to  us  like  enchant- 
ment ]  and  we  talked  of  what  we  were  to  wear,  and  whom  we  were 


2/O  FAIRY-LAND 


to  invite,  until  we  parted,  and  then  we  each  thought  silently  of  it 
until  we  reached  home. 

As  time  progressed,  a  pleasant  intercourse  arose  between  Lilly  and 
her  uncle.  He  was  so  gentle  and  affectionate,  and  she  so  grateful  to 
him  for  his  kindness,  that  not  a  doubt  had  as  yet  arisen  between 
them  to  mar  its  brightness.  I  had  been  perfect  in  my  lessons  at 
school  for  one  month  before  my  birthday,  and  the  time  was  really 
set  for  the  promised  party.  Fifty  of  my  friends  had  been  invited, 
and  my  heart  fairly  danced  with  pleasure  at  the  prospect.  We  were 
talking  of  it,  Lilly  and  I,  and  the  world  did  not  contain  two  happier 
beings.  "  In  the  eastern  scene,  in  one  tableau,"  said  I  to  Lilly, 
"what  shall  we  do  for  jewels?  Mamma  has  two  breastpins  that 
you  shall  have,  but  they  would  not  look  very  queenly  all  alone  ; 
however,  flowers  will  do  as  well,  and  the  idea  will  be  very  pretty." 

"  Flowers  !  "  answered  Lilly,  scornfully ;  "  do  you  think  that  I, 
reclining  on  my  damask  couch,  with  an  embroidered  dress  and  a 
gold  lace  veil,  would  be  content  with  flowers  ?  No,  indeed  !  jewels 
I  must  have."  Now,  the  picture  that  was  before  us  was  from  an  old 
annual,  and  it  represented  a  Persian  scene  of  singular  beauty  and 
interest.  A  lovely  young  girl  was  half  reclining,  and  playing  with 
an  open  box  of  jewels,  and  a  glittering  chain  was  carelessly  thrown 
about  her  neck,  while  her  attendant,  whom  I  was  to  represent,  was 
looking  with  wonder  at  their  richness  and  costliness  j  and  a  guitar, 
upon  which  she  had  been  playing  to  amuse  the  fair  young  creature, 
lay  unnoticed  upon  her  knee.  This  picture  pleased  our  fancy,  and 
we  selected  it  from  a  hundred  others,  as  most  worthy  of  our  genius. 
The  golden  curls  of  the  young  Sultana  attracted  Lilly,  as  being  like 
hers ;  and  perhaps,  in  my  vanity,  I  traced  some  resemblance  in  the 
dark  eyes  and  glossy  hair  of  the  attendant  maiden  to  my  own. 
"  Yes,  flowers  will  do,"  said  I  to  Lilly's  scornful  reply  ;  "  I  can  get 
a  beautiful  bunch  of  exotics  for  you,  and  maybe  our  audience  will 
prefer  them  to  jewels."  Lilly  mused  for  an  instant,  and  shook  her 


AND   OTHER    TALES.  2? I 

head.  I  knew  her  determined  spirit,  but  I  feared  no  evil  from  that 
passing  cloud.  She  talked  awhile  to  herself,  and  I  heard  her  say 
these  words,  "  Mrs.  Meredith  and  Smith  the  jeweller."  But  I  did 
not  think  that  they  had  any  connection  with  the  subject,  and  I 
thought  of  them  no  more.  The  next  day  I  was  with  her  in  her  little 
room.  Her  uncle's  care  had  fitted  it  up  for  her  in  a  neat  and  appro- 
priate manner.  Pretty  pictures  hung  against  the  walls,  and  the  white 
quilt  and  curtains  were  as  pure  as  her  own  soul  should  have  been. 
A  portrait  of  her  uncle,  too,  looked  at  her  with  its  loving  eygs,  just 
above  her  writing-table,  where,  like  all  girls  of  her  age,  she  had  fan- 
cied herself  a  poetess,  and  scribbled  sonnets  to  the  moon,  and  letters 
to  dozens  of  imaginary  friends.  There  was  a  quiet  tap  at  the  door, 
and  her  uncle,  with  his  slow  and  solemn  step,  walked  in  and  took  a 
seat  near  me,  while  Lilly  sprang  upon  his  knees.  Something  very 
like  a  smile  played  over  his  face,  and  there  was  a  peculiar  beauty  in 
it,  for  I  had  never  seen  him  smile  before ;  and  then  Lilly  said,  coax- 
ingly,  "  Uncle,  I  have  a  favor  to  ask  of  you ;  and  you  cannot,  must 
not  say  no  to  your  little  '  Lily  of  the  Valley,'  even  if  your  other  pet, 
Carry,  says  flowers  will  do." 

"  What  is  it,  my  child  ? "  replied  he,  as  he  parted  her  fair  ringlets 
and  looked  into  her  pleading  face. 

"  Well,  you  know,"  she  began,  —  and  she  made  an  urgent  case 
about  the  jewels,  and  convinced  herself,  at  least,  that  she  could  not 
do  without  them. 

" I  have  jewels,"  murmured  Mr.  Milward,  "but  they  belonged  to 
her  whom  the  cold  grave  covers  ;  perhaps  it  is  a  weakness  in  me  not 
to  let  the  dear  child  have  them,  but  the  sight  of  them  would  quite 
unman  me ;  and  ah,  no,  it  cannot  be  quite  yet !  No,  Lilly,"  said  he, 
aloud,  "  it  must  be  just  as  Carry  thinks ;  the  flowers  will  do  as 
well." 

A  shade  of  disappointment  passed  over  Lilly's  face,  and  she  com- 
menced to  plead  afresh ;  but  the  anguish  which  her  uncle  appeared 


2/2  FAIRY-LAND 


to  feel,  and  his  abrupt  departure  from  the  room,  assured  her  that  she 
had  no  hope  of  having  her  wishes  gratified  by  him. 

The  night  of  my  party  was  a  lovely  one.  The  full  moon  watched 
the  more  active  portion  of  the  young  people  romping  upon  the  lawn, 
and  the  bright  glare  of  lamplight  within  revealed  us  at  more  quiet 
games.  In  spite  of  the  sad  memories  of  "that  evening,  I  look  back 
to  it  with  some  kind  of  pleasure,  for  so  many  hearts  were  happy  and 
amused.  And  Lilly,  in  our  youthful  circle,  was  the  most  loved,  the 
most  admired.  There  was  a  strange  excitement  in  her  eyes,  and  the 
flush  upon  her  face  increased  her  natural  beauty.  At  one  time  she 
was  among  the  dancers,  excelling  them  all ;  and  at  another,  she  left 
the  young  to  say  a  word  to  the  old  people,  as  she  called  them,  who 
had  been  invited  to  witness  our  pleasure.  We  had  in  vain  urged  her 
uncle  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Manvers  to  join  us  on  that  evening.  The 
grief  of  the  former  was  too  deeply  seated  to  enjoy  such  gayety,  and 
the  latter  preferred  remaining  at  home  with  him.  All  watched 
Lilly's  graceful  movements,  and  blessed  her  angel-like  countenance. 
I  remember  one  interesting  scene,  which  I  cannot  pass  by  without 
recording. 

Twelve  of  our  party  had  gathered  round  a  table  to  look  at  some 
prints,  when  an  old  gentleman  who  was  present  offered  a  reward  of  a 
beautiful  box  of  bon-bons  for  the  best  poetical  address  to  the  moon, 
not  to  exceed  eight  lines,  and  to  be  produced  in  ten  minutes.  Some 
of  our  attempts  were  very  queer.  One  ran  thus :  — 

"  The  moon  in  heaven,  which  shines  so  bright, 
Does  nothing  at  all  but  blind  my  sight" . 

That  certainly  would  not  answer ;  another  made  moon  and  town 
rhyme,  but  it  was  against  all  rules  of  rhythm  ;  and  one  gallant  youth, 
with  upturned  eyes  and  expanded  arms,  eloquently  exclaimed  :  — 

"  Oh,  Moon,  you  are  the  only  she 
That  does  inconstant  and  fickle  be  !  " 


AND   OTHER    TALES.  2/3 

Even  I,  with  my  sober,  unromantic  ideas,  attempted  something,  so 
great  was  my  desire  for  the  promised  prize,  and  I  also  signally  failed ; 
but  Lilly,  as  usual,  triumphed  ;  and  after  ten  minutes  she  arose,  calm 
as  the  moon  itself,  and  led  us  all  to  the  balcony,  where,  with  her  blue 
eyes  raised,  and  with  a  touching  sweetness  which  is  past  descrip- 
tion, she  recited  the  following  original  lines  :  — 

"  Look  down,  O  gentle  Moon,  with  tender  love  ! 
Stoop  from  the  azure  skies  so  clear  above, 

And  watch  our  joy  this  night ; 
Upon  each  grateful  heart,  Oh,  do  thou  shine  ; 
Shed  in  our  hearts  thine  influence  divine, 
And  we  will  bless  thy  light" 

"  Two  more  lines ! "  we  all  shouted  ;  and  she,  with  a  smile  in  her 
eyes,  said,  mischievously,  still  looking  upward  to  the  "  Queen  of 
Night,"  — 

"  To  tell  the  truth,  I  want  the  offered  sweets, 
And  so  I  lay  my  verses  at  thy  feet." 

The  laugh  which  followed  this  address  was  long  and  loud,  and 
Lilly  shared  the  bon  -bons  among  all  the  aspirants.  I  must  say 
that  I  watched  Lilly  with  a  kind  of  uneasiness.  She  seemed  almost 
demented  in  her  manner,  —  at  one  time  so  composed,  and  at  another 
so  flighty  and  incomprehensible.  I  tried  to  talk  with  her  alone,  but 
she  slid  from  me,  and  joined  some  group  of  which  she  became  the 
life  and  light.  The  evening  really  seemed  too  short  for  us  ;  and 
after  supper,  when  mamma  beckoned  to  me  to  call  the  tableaux 
actors,  I  felt  as  if  the  last  of  the  pageant  was  about  to  be  performed, 
and  after  that  there  would  be  silence  and  darkness.  The  lights  were 
all  adjusted,  and  the  show  began.  First,  there  was  a  village  scene, 
and  the  boys,  with  large  straw  hats,  rakes,  and  scythes,  looked  very 
picturesque.  Then  Flora,  the  goddess  of  flowers,  appeared,  person- 
ated by  a  young  girl,  whom  Flora  herself  would  not  have  disdained 
to  acknowledge.  The  boys  were  bashful,  and  only  a  few  would  per- 
18 


274  FAIRY-LAND 


form ;  but  we  had  sailors  and  soldiers  enough.  Then  came  a  sweet 
scene  of  Little  Red  Riding-Hood,  which  made  all  the  people  laugh, 
for  a  mischievous  boy  crept  in  behind  the  frame,  on  "  all  fours,"  and 
said  that  he  came  to  inform  "  his  friends  and  the  public  that  he  was 
the  wolf,"  and  he  growled  like  a  veritable  inhabitant  of  the  woods. 
But  the  grand  closing  scene  was  the  "young  Sultana."  Lilly  and  I 
had  dressed  in  separate  apartments  ;  and,  as  I  had  completed  my 
toilet  first,  mamma,  with  approbation  in  her  looks,  told  me  to  place 
myself  within  the  frame  before  the  curtain  was  raised,  in  the  attitude 
which  I  was  expected  to  assume.  I  was  habited  in  a  dress  of  pure 
white  muslin,  with  flowing  sleeves  ;  on  each  arm  I  had  a  plain  band 
of  gold  paper  as  bracelets ;  while  on  my  head,  in  contrast  to  my 
dark  hair,  was  placed  a  white  turban,  with  a  single  gold  star  in  front. 
My  trousers,  too,  were  confined  with  anklets  of  gold,  and  my  satin 
slippers  just  peeped  from  beneath  their  ample  fold.  As  I  looked 
up,  after  I  had  taken  my  kneeling  posture,  with  the  guitar  clasped 
tightly  in  one  hand,  I  knew,  by  mamma's  quiet  "  bravo !  "  that  so 
far  all  was  right.  Lilly  had  delayed  her  toilet  longer,  I  thought, 
than  was  necessary ;  but  at  last  I  distinguished  her  approaching 
footstep,  and  I  heard  her  distinctly  say  to  the  attendant,  "One 
instant  after  I  take  my  seat,  and  without  any  signal  from  me,  lift  the 
curtain."  She  entered,  and  the  whole  scene  seemed  to  me  to  be 
enchanted.  I  looked  at  her,  and  the  very  sentiment  which  I  was 
required  to  express  by  my  looks,  was  stamped  upon  my  features. 
She  raised  her  jewelled  finger  to  her  lips,  with  a  stern  glance  at  me, 
which  I  could  not  resist,  and  I  felt  that  she  demanded  silence. 
Gliding  past  me,  she  threw  herself  into  the  most  graceful  attitude 
imaginable,  half  lifted  an  exquisite  string  of  pearls  from  a  small 
jewel  box,  and  the  curtain  rose  slowly.  I  know  not  which  of  us 
excited  most  the  admiration  of  the  spectators,  —  I,  with  my  true  ex- 
pression of  wonder,  or  Lilly,  who  reclined  there,  queen-like  in  her 
royal  beauty.  Her  dress,  which  her  mother  had  prepared  for  her 


AND  OTHER   TALES.  2/5 

with  all  a  mother's  pride,  was  precisely  what  it  should  have  been. 
The  embroidered  slippers  in  which  her  small  bare  feet  were  encased, 
the  full  satin  trousers,  and  the  unique  head-dress,  with  the  gold- 
spangled  veil  which  floated  over  one  shoulder,  were  in  keeping  with 
the  original  picture.  Her  long  golden  curls  shaded  her  rosy  cheeks, 
and  her  drooping  eyelashes  curtained  her  half  shut  eyes.  I  saw 
them  all,  and  I  saw  the  jewels  which  she  had  obtained.  A  large 
diamond  gleamed  from  her  tiara  like  the  eye  of  a  serpent ;  her  slight 
fingers  were  covered  with  rings  which  she  had  borrowed  from  her 
young  companions  ;  and  a  golden  chain  glittered  around  her  neck, 
and  that  exquisite  necklace  of  pearls  which  she  held  so  loosely  in 
her  grasp,  where  could  they  have  come  from  ?  thought  I.  There 
had  been  no  applause  heretofore,  for  mamma  had  rather  checked 
than  encouraged  any  demonstrations  of  the  kind  ;  but  now,  after  a 
short  silence,  I  was  stunned  and  frightened  by  the  noise  and  excla- 
mations of  delight,  and  I  could  endure  the  strange  dream  no  longer. 
I  made  the  signal  agreed  upon,  although  Lilly  looked  as  though  she 
could  have  remained  motionless  forever,  and  the  curtain  dropped. 
We  were  loudly  called  upon  to  reappear,  but  I  could  not;  and  in 
endeavoring  to  draw  aside  the  green  baize  at  the  back  of  the  appa- 
ratus, I  believe  I  felt  faint,  for  I  caught  too  suddenly ;  and  a  lamp 
which  was  placed  insecurely  on  a  side  stand  came  down  with  a 
crash,  and  in  a  minute,  cries  of  fire  and  tones  of  terror  sounded  on 
my  ears.  The  light  drapery  was  in  flames,  but  by  great  exertions 
it  was  soon  extinguished ;  and  Lilly  and  I,  half  crushed  by  the 
crowd,  found  ourselves  in  the  piazza,  with  the  cold,  unconscious 
moon  looking  down  calmly  upon  us.  I  grasped  Lilly's  hand,  and 
heard  myself  say,  but  with  a  voice  that  sounded  nothing  like  my 
own,  "  Where  did  you  get  those  —  "  I  could  not  finish  the  sen- 
tence ;  for,  with  a  cry  of  anguish,  she  bounded  from  me,  exclaiming, 
"  I  am  ruined  and  undone  !  " 

The  company  departed  with  regret  at  the  sad  ending  of  so  pleas- 


276  FAIRY-LAND 


ant  an  evening ;  and  Lilly  went  home,  under  the  care  of  a  faithful 
servant,  in  her  uncle's  little  carriage.  As  she  came  to  bid  us  good 
night,  the  diamond,  which  appeared  to  be  set  in  a  ring,  gleamed 
fiercely  in  her  crushed  tiara,  and  her  hand  still  held  the  jewel-box ; 
but  the  pearls  had  been  trampled  on,  and  she  could  only  gather  up 
a  few  from  among  the  confusion  which  the  fire  had  caused. 

"  It  is  a  great  pity,  dear,"  said  mamma,  in  her  sympathizing  tone, 
"  that  your  beautiful  pearls  are  lost ;  but  I  suppose  that  they  were 
your  uncle's ;  and  his  love  for  you  will  forgive  you  anything.  Are 
they  not  your  uncle's  ? "  she  continued,  as  Lilly  did  not  appear  to 
hear  her. 

I  saw  her  face  turn  scarlet ;  and  when  at  last  she  replied,  with  an 
effort,  "  Yes,  they  are  uncle's,"  I  felt  that  she  had  uttered  a  lie  ;  but 
I  could  not  then  speak  what  was  passing  in  my  breast ;  and  kissing 
her  coldly,  I  told  her  that  I  would  endeavor  to  find  the  rest  of  the 
pearls  and  bring  them  to  her. 

I  was  detained  longer  than  I  had  expected,  the  next  day,  at  home, 
and  did  not  arrive  at  Mr.  Manver's  house  until  an  hour  before  their 
dinner  time.  Her  mother  pressed  me  to  stay  ;  and,  independent  of 
the  love  I  bore  them  all,  I  wished  to  see  the  end,  if  end  there  was, 
to  the  mystery  of  the  pearl  necklace.  I  waited  until  I  was  alone 
with  Lilly  before  I  dared  venture  to  present  her  with  the  loose  pearls 
I  had  collected,  and  she  received  them  with  a  trembling  hand,  but 
offered  no  explanation.  We  talked  over  and  over  again  the  inci- 
dents of  the  past  evening  to  amuse  her  parents  and  uncle  ;  but,  by  a 
kind  of  mutual,  tacit  consent,  we  avoided  mentioning  one  word  about 
the  jewels.  The  day  was  very  long  and  miserable  to  me,  for  I  read 
Lilly's  face,  and  could  see  the  effort  she  made  to  appear  gay  and 
happy  in  the  home  circle.  She  was  cold  and  reserved  to  me  ;  but  I 
forgave  her  for  that,  as  I  did  not  yet  see  clearly  the  nature  of  her 
struggles.  It  was  towards  sunset,  and  we  were  sitting  by  an  open 
window  facing  the  street.  The  sun  cast  a  yellow  glare  over  the 


AND   OTHER    TALES.  2// 


buildings,  and  faded  in  the  distance  to  a  pale  straw  color,  inspiring 
that  indescribable  sensation  of  peace  which  the  coming  on  of  au- 
tumn occasionally  brings,  and  which  the  youngest  child  sometimes 
feels.  We  were  conversing  cheerfully  when  we  were  interrupted  by 
the  sound  of  a  heavy  carriage,  and  a  gorgeous  equipage  wheeled  up 
to  the  door,  while  a  lady,  superbly  dressed,  alighted  from  it.  She 
scarcely  awaited  the  announcement  of  her  name,  but  walked  in. 
She  was  very  beautiful,  but  there  was  a  look  of  pride  and  insincerity 
about  her  which  I  did  not  like.  I  had  never  seen  her  there  before, 
and  I  watched  her  intently.  She  bowed  gracefully  to  the  two  gen- 
tlemen, looked  at  me  With  a  well-bred  inclination  of  the  head  ;  and 
when  I  turned  to  see  how  Lilly  regarded  her,  I  perceived  that  the 
place  she  had  occupied  by  my  side  was  vacant.  She  must  have 
departed  from. the  room  as  the  lady  had  entered  it.  This  lady,  then, 
on  whom  my  eyes  were  turned  by  a  kind  of  fascination,  approached 
Mrs.  Manvers,  and,  with  charming  courtesy,  said,  "At  last,  Mary, 
you  have  descended  from  your  stern  reserve,  and  you  are  sorry  that 
you  ever  separated  yourself  from  my  friendship.  You  cannot  forget 
the  love  of  our  early  years,  and  the  pleasures  we  have  shared  to- 
gether. I  am  glad  to  see  that  you  seek  me  once  more.  We  have 
each  of  us  a  great  deal  to  forget  and  forgive." 

"  Madam ,"  returned  Mr.  Manvers,  before  his  wife  could  utter  one 
word,  "  if  a  thousand  years  should  pass  over  our  heads  and  you  still 
stood  there  asking  me  in  those  winning  tones  if  I  had  forgotten  the 
past,  I  should  say,  never  !  I  have  forgiven  you  as  I  hope  to  be  for- 
given for  my  own  sins  ;  but  I  cannot  forget  that  you  procured  false 
witnesses  against  me  in  that  fearful  hour  which  accused  me  of  fraud, 
an  accusation,  which  has  blackened  my  innocent  and  spotless  name 
and  robbed  my  very  life  of  its  sweetness.  The  world  I  know  ac- 
knowledges me  to  be  not  guilty,  for  your  accursed  plot  extended  not 
beyond  the  so-called  "  administrators  of  justice.'  For  the  loss  of 
property  I  care  comparatively  little,  and  I  had  rather  be  here  as  I 


278  FAIRY-LAND 


am  now,  conscious  of  my  own  integrity,  than  raised  like  you  upon 
the  pinnacle  of  earthly  riches  which  are  not  your  own,  and  which 
have  been  obtained  by  the  ruin  of  another." 

A  strange  and  subtle  smile  covered  the  lady's  face  as  she  an- 
swered :  — 

"  You  care  not  for  my  countenance,  —  my  riches,  —  why  then  did 
you  send  your  daughter  with  soft  words,  and  with  her  face  of  perfect 
beauty,  to  charm  me  while  she  asked  the  loan  of  a  few  paltry  jewels 
for  a  child's  pageant.  On  her  forehead  glistened  my  diamond,  and 
round  her  white,  and  pure,  and  youthful  neck,  coiled  a  golden  chain 
which  has  been  often  wound  round  mine." 

"  Just  heaven ! "  said  the  father,  "  can  this  be  so  ?  If  you  are 
honest,  madame,  you  came  but  to  insult  us  ;  if  what  you  say  of  my 
daughter  be  untrue,  there  should  be  a  greater  distance  between  us 
than  ever." 

The  lady  deigned  no  reply,  but  scornfully  sweeping  by  us  re-en- 
tered her  carriage.  I,  at  least,  felt  that  her  tale  was  correct,  #nd  that 
Lilly  was  on  the  brink  of  an  abyss,  into  which  she  must  certainly 
fall,  and  my  breath  seemed  to  leave  me  as  she  entered  the  room  at 
the  summons  of  her  father. 

"  My  dear  child,"  said  he  mildly,"  you  have  been  accused  of  an 
action  which  your  trembling  mother,  there,  and  I,  consider  in  the 
light  of  a  sin  against  us.  Did  you  borrow  Mrs.  Meredith's  jewelry, 
so  that  you  might  glitter  with  splendor  in  the  show  of  last  night  ? " 

She  could  not  say  "  no,"  for  she  knew  not  how  much  might  have 
been  revealed  ;  but  her  head  fell  heavily  upon  her  breast,  and  her 
father  knew  that  it  had  been  so.  He  did  not  chide  her  for  her  fault, 
but  he  inquired  sternly  into  all  the  particulars,  asked  if  the  jewels  had 
been  returned,  and  receiving  an  answer  in  the  affirmative,  bowed  his 
head  upon  the  table  and  wept.  Mrs.  Manvers  stood  motionless  with 
surprise  and  mortification,  while  the  uijcle  opened  his  arms  to  his 
adopted  child,  trusting  her  even  against  hope,  and  finding  some 


AND   OTHER    TALES.  2/9 

excuse  for  her,  even  when  her  guilt  was  beyond  a  doubt.  Soon  there 
was  a  knock  at  the  door  and  a  note  was  handed  to  Mr.  Milward. 
Oh,  what  varied  tidings  do  these  v  white  winged  messengers  "  bring ! 
At  one  time  joy  and  happiness,  at  another  prostration  of  hopes  and 
eternal  misery.  The  wretched  father  and  mother  had  left  the  room 
to  commune  with  each  other  upon  the  conduct  of  their  child.  After 
all,  they  could  only  accuse  her  of  the  sin  of  disobedience  which 
might  be  atoned  for  by  after  acts.  It  was  a  hard  struggle,  though, 
to  think  kindly  of  her,  for  she  knew  that  a  ban  had  been  laid  upon 
any  intercourse  with  Mrs.  Meredith,  and  she  knew,  also,  what  had 
estranged  her  parents  from  so  designing  an  individual. 

Mr.  Milward  glanced  at  the  signature  of  the  note  with  an  indiffer- 
ent air  as  if  he  cared  not  to  disturb  the  beloved  child ;  and  he  called 
me  to  him,  and  bade  me  go  to  the  light  which  had  just  been  brought 
in,  and  read  that  troublesome  business  letter  for  him. 

"  Dear  sir,"  I  began  :  "  Excuse  the  liberty  I  am  taking  this  evening, 
but  I  would  esteem  it  a  great  favor  if  you  would  return  the  set  of 
pearls  — ."  I  stopped  short,  for  I  would  not  read  anything  which  I 
thought  would  condemn  Lilly.  Poor  thing,  as  I  looked,  she  slid 
from  her  uncle's  arms  to  the  floor  and  seemed  the  personification  of 
despair.  "Go  on,  go  on,"  said  Mr.  Milward,  "there  is  some  strange 
mystery  in  this  ;  the  man  is  mad.  I  know  nothing  of  his  pearls," 
and  he  attempted  to  raise  .Lilly  once  more  to  his  arms.  "  If  you 
would  return  the  set  of  pearls,"  continued  I,  "  as  I  have  the  prospect 
of  a  sale  for  them.  Again  I  request  you  to  excuse  this  liberty. 
"  I  remain,  dear  sir,  your  obedient  servant, 

"J.  SMITH." 

Now  then,  thought  I,  and  before  the  affair  had  become  public,  it 
was  the  time  for  Lilly  to  come  forward  and  explain.  If  the  beads 
had  been  perfect  as  she  had  at  first  received  them,  no  doubt  they 
would  have  been  returned  in  the  morning ;  but  mutilated  as  they  were 


280  FATRY-LAND 


she  felt  as  if  she  must  have  a  clay  for  thought,  and  therefore,  she  put 
off  until  the  latest  moment  any  plan  which  might  have  occurred  to 
her.  What  she  most  dreaded  was  the  enormous  sum  for  which  she 
knew  she  was  responsible.  I  came  to  all  these  conclusions  in  less 
time  than  I  have  taken  to  write  them  ;  indeed,  on  that  evening,  I  ap- 
peared to  be  endowed  with  the  judgment  and  foresight  of  a  woman. 
Mr.  Milward  called  for  his  desk  and  sat  down  to  answer  the  fatal 
letter.  I  was  so  excited  that  I  leaned  over  his  chair  unconsciously 
and  watched  his  hand  which  guided  the  pen.  He  wrote  the  word 
"  Sir,"  then  stopped  as  if  uncertain  what  to  say.  His  brow  became 
wrinkled  and  his  hand  clenched  with  passion.  I  turned  for  a  mo- 
ment to  look  at  Lilly.  Let  me  take  her  picture  for  you.  She  was 
on  the  floor  as  he  had  left  her,  thinking,  in  his  innocence,  that  she 
was  mourning  for  the  grief  that  she  had  occasioned  her  father  and 
mother  by  her  conduct  towards  Mrs.  Meredith,  and  he  was  not  un- 
willing to  see  her  penitent  for  that.  She  was  sitting  in  a  drooping 
posture  with  her  face  buried  in  her  hands,  and  her  long  curls  hang- 
ing over  her.  I  touched  her  gently  and  said  to  her,  in  a  whisper, 
"  Lilly,  if  you  have  anything  to  say,  now  is  the  time."  Look  there, 
continued  I,  pointing  to  her  uncle.  Her  eyes  were  instantly  turned 
towards  him.  She  arose  and  leaned  over  him  as  he  wrote.  As  he 
signed  his  name  to  the  indignant  reply,  she  laid  her  Jiand  on  his 
shoulder  and  said  in  a  tone  I  shall  never  forget,  for  every  syllable 
trembled  ere  she  could  utter  it :  "  Stop  !  uncle,  it  was  /  who  borrowed 
them. 

"Just  heaven!"  ejaculated  the  old  man,  "Has  the  whole  world 
forsaken  me  ?  Explain  quickly,  Lilly,  or  I  believe  that  I  shall  lose 
my  senses." 

I  knew  by  her  agonized  look  that  she  was  true  then,  that  each 
word  she  uttered  was  sincere. 

"  It  is  strange  even  to  myself,"  said  she  in  a  hollow  tone,  "  how  I 
became  what  I  now  am.  I  feel  miserably  guilty.  I  have  felt  so  for 


AND   OTHER    TALES.  28 1 

some  time,  and  yet  I  could  not  withstand  the  intense  desire  which 
possessed  me  of  rivalling  every  one  at  Carry's  birthday  party.  I 
did  not  listen  to  your  advice  and  hers  to  supply  the  place  of  jewels 
with  flowers,  but  remembering  that  I  had  seen  Mrs.  Meredith  with 
exquisite  jewelry,  I  thought  that  I  might  borrow  them  for  one  night 
•only.  She  seemed  rejoiced  to  see  me,  embraced  me, 'and  told  me  it 
was  one  of  the  happiest  days  of  her  life  for  a  daughter  of  the  proud 
Mr.  Manvers  to  ask  a  favor  of  her.  Had  she  not  come  to-day  with 
her  insulting  proffers  of  friendship,  my  fault  there  would  have  been 
forever  unknown,  for  I  knew  there  was  no  intercourse  between  our 
families.  As  to  these"  she  said,  in  the  same  tone,  and  she  drew  the 
jewel  box  from  her  pocket,  and  opened  it  before  her  uncle,  "  the  sin 
was  blacker  here.  I  went  in  your  name  as  I  knew  that  it  could 
obtain  anything  in  this  city,  and  borrowed  them  for  you  as  I  said  to 
see  the  new  style  of  pearl  setting,  and  that  also  would  have  remained 
undiscovered  had  not  the  fortunate  or  unfortunate  event  of  the  fire 
taken  place.  What  I  can  do  I  know  not,  for  the  sum  I  am  afraid  is 
more  than  I  can  ever  repay ;  but  so  much  for  vanity,  and  pride  and 
ambition."  She  smiled  as  she  ended,  and  I  thought  her  quite  hard- 
ened. She  asked  nobody  to  pardon  her,  but  putting  her  hand  to 
her  head,  she  said,  "  I  feel  strangely  dizzy  and  I  want  to  lie  down." 

Mr.  Milwar-d  tore  the  note  he  had  written  into  fragments,  and 
mused  for  a  moment  gloomily ;  then  coming  forward,  he  took  her 
gently  in  his  arms  and  bore  her  to  her  little  white-curtained  room, 
while  I  followed.  We  heard  her  uncle's  receding  steps,  and  he  went 
down  stairs,  out  of  the  street  door,  until  the  sound  died  away  on  the 
pavements.  I  helped  to  undress  Lilly.  Neither  of  us  said  one 
word  ;  but  as  she  was  stepping  into  bed,  I  said,  "  Lilly,  let  us  pray." 
We  both  knelt  down,  and  I  repeated  the  Lord's  prayer  audibly.  As 
she  sank  down  upon  the  pillow,  she  said  to  me,  softly,  "  I  am  cold 
and  frightened  !  call  mamma."  Her  mother  came,  and  for  a  week 
she  did  not  leave  that  bedside,  for  the  life  of  her  child  was  sus- 


282  FAIRY-LAND 


penclcd  on  a  mere  thread,  which  was  kept  unbroken  only  by  the 
grace  of  God  and  the  kind  attentions  of  those  around  her.  I  never 
saw  such  devotion  as  that  poor  uncle  exhibited.  'He  had  witnessed 
the  death  of  five  loved  ones ;  and  when  the  physician  said  that  there 
was  hope  for  Lilly,  he  felt  as  if  there  was  still  some  happiness  in 
store  for  him.  It  was  an  exciting  morning,  that  one  on  which  she 
regained  her  consciousness.  Her  bright  hair  had  all  been  shorn, 
and  the  marks  of  the  blisters  which  had  been  applied  to  her  fore- 
head and  temples  gave  a  peculiar  expression  to  her  countenance. 
Her  mother  was  kneeling  by  the  bedside,  her  father  looking  from 
the  window  with  an  abstracted  air.  Her  uncle,  with  her  hand  in 
his,  was  sitting  upon  the  bed,  watching  every  breath  that  she  drew, 
and  I,  who  had  been  so  much  with  her  in  sickness  as  well  as  health, 
was  weeping  by  her  side.  Each  tick  of  the  watch  was  distinctly 
heard,  and  the  beating  of  our  hearts  was  almost  audible.  And  there 
lay  this  child  of  many  hopes,  as  silent  and  motionless,  almost,  as 
death  itself.  Suddenly  she  opened  her  blue  eyes  and  gazed  at  her 
uncle.  She  shuddered  as  she  looked,  and  turned  her  head  upon  the 
pillow,  as  if  she  was  fatigued  ;  but  she  seemed  to  gather  strength, 
and  said,  in  a  whisper,  the  word,  "  Mamma."  Her  Another  took  her 
hand,  afraid,  by  a  word,  to  break  the  blissful  dream.  "  And  papa," 
she  said,  raising  her  head  upon  the  pillow.  And  he  came  forward 
and  joined  the  group  so  softly  that  you  could  not  hear  his  step.  I 
could  not  help  it,  and  I  burst  into  a  flood  of  tears.  She  looked  at 
me  and  smiled.  She  tried  to  say  something,  but  we  shook  our 
heads,  afraid  to  trust  her  to  speak,  she  was  so  weak  and  languid. 
But  she  persisted.  "  Only  this,"  said  she,  in  a  whisper,  while  we 
bent  forward  to  catch  her  slightest  accent. 

"  I  wish  the  forgiveness  of  each  and  all ;  and  I  will  try,  if  I  should 
recover,  never  to  sin  again." 

This  was  more  than  enough  for  us.  We  kissed  her  pale  cheek 
with  many  loving  words,  and  then  she  slept  sweetly. 


AND   OTHER    TALES.  283 

After  a  while  Lilly  moved  among  us  again,  but  changed  in  charac- 
ter and  in  actions.  The  events  which  had  occasioned  so  much  sad 
feeling  in  our  little  circle  had  been  blessed  indeed  to  her ;  and  if 
there  was  a  being  on  earth  who  practised  strict  rectitude  of  life,  it 
was  she.  Many  a  wholesome  lesson  have  I,  who  in  times  past  had 
been  the  preacher,  received  from  her.  Her  uncle  defrayed  without 
a  murmur  the  bill  at  the  jeweller's,  and  no  one  but  her  family  and 
ours  ever  knew  of  the  occurrence.  The  jewel  case  lies  in  a  drawer, 
to  which  she  daily  repairs  ;  and  she  rather  courts  than  shuns  the 
memory  of  the  Untruth  and  the  Broken  Necklace. 


TURN  AWAY.      . 

FROM  companions  bad  and  rude, 
Who  upon  you  will  intrude, 

Turn  away. 

From  profane  and  wicked  word, 
Which  by  your  ears  should  not  be  heard, 
Turn  away. 

From  any  act  you  know  is  wrong, 
And  to  the  pure  should  not  belong, 

Turn  away. 

From  temptations  each  and  all 
Which  from  the  right  might  make  you  fall 
Turn  away. 

From  Sabbath  breakers'  sinful  ways, 
Who  would  profane  those  holy  days, 

Turn  away. 

From  deeds  that  God  will  not  approve, 
Nor  sanction  with  his  seal  of  love, 

Turn  away. 


2  84  FAIR  Y-  LAND 


THE  FALL  FROM  THE  SWING. 

A    TRUE    STORY. 

"  I  SHALL  never,  no,  never  forget  it !  "  said  the  gentleman. 

"  Can  you  tell  me  about  it  ?"  said  my  mother,  in -her  gentle,  sym- 
pathizing tone. 

"  Yes  ;  draw  nearer." 

I  had  been  sewing  very  busily  before  these  words  were  uttered, 
not  interested  in  what  my  mother  and  her  guest  were  conversing 
about.  I  merely  heard  the  murmur  of  their  voices,  but  that  did  not 
disturb  my  quiet,  and  I  turned  over  in  my  mind  my  past,  present, 
and  future  plans,  scarcely  conscious  that  any  one  was  in  the  room 
but  myself;  but  these  words  uttered  by  the  gentleman  were  so  em- 
phatic that  I  almost  thought  that  his  invitation  was  for  me  to  draw 
near  too  ;  and  I  laid  aside  my  work,  and  listened  to  the  following 
thrilling  story. 

"  Francis  Walpole  and  I  were  friends  in  our  childhood,  friends  in 
the  widest  sense  of  a  school-boy's  interpretation  of  that  sacred  word, 
and  we  were  neighbors  in  the  broad  and  beautiful  country  where 
there  were  no  bounds  to  our  pleasures  and  no  city  restraints  in  our 
rambles.  It  seemed  as  if  I  could  not  love  and  prize  him  enough ; 
and  I  sought  for  no  other  companionship,  and  cared  for  no  other  ear 
in  which  to  whisper  my  triumphs,  failures,  or  wrongs.  His  arm  and 
his  advice  were  always  at  my  service  ;  and  many  a  hard  blow  did  he 
gain  for  defending  my  cause,  right  or  wrong.  I  love  to  dwell  upon 
his  refined  and  manly  beauty,  his  strangely  powerful  strength  of 
muscle,  his  determination  when  he  felt  that  his  cause  was  just ;  and 
few  were  the  boys,  even  older  than  he,  who  feared  not  to  feel  a  blow 
that  he  could  give,  either  in  jest  or  in  earnest.  I  said  that  we  were 
neighbors  in  the  country ;  but  besides  our  family  and  his,  two  others 
lived  near  us  on  terms  of  great  intimacy.  The  grounds  of  each 


AND   OTHER    TALES.  285 


house  met  in  a  kind  of  court-yard,  with  no  inhospitable  fences  to 
intervene  ;  and  we  made  a  play-ground  of  this  large  space,  and  had 
ample  room  to  indulge  in  the  usual  sports  of  boys,  such  as  cricket, 
leap-frog,  marbles,  and  kites ;  while  the  girls  chose  the  more  femi- 
nine diversions  of  battledoor,  ball,  and  the  skipping-rope.  But  what- 
ever were  our  separate  sports,  we  met  on  common  ground  in  a 
swing,  which  Mr.  Walpole,  who  was  a  kind  and  indulgent  father,  ha4 
erected  for  his  son.  Nothing  was  more  fascinating.  It  consisted  of 
two  very  high,  upright  posts,  with  a  cross-piece  on  the  top,  from 
which  the  rope  was  suspended.  The  swing  held  two  children  easily, 
and  we  seldom  paid  a  visit  to  the  upper  regions  alone.  Sometimes 
we  rough  boys  mounted  the  air-car  together,  wild  with  joy  and  frolic ; 
or  at  other  times  we  would  give  the  ropes  a  gentle  impulse,  while 
sweet  Annie  Morris  floated  to  and  fro,  only  wanting  wings,  in  our 
imaginations,  to  resemble  a  flying  angel ;  and  sometimes,  to  our 
shame  be  it  spoken,  we  twisted  the  rope  while  wild  Bet  Dayton  was 
held  prisoner,  and  released  it  on  a  concerted  signal,  while  it  carried 
the  unfortunate  girl  whirling  round  and  round,  till  she  grew  weary  of 
asking  mercy  at  our  hands,  or  until  we  had  obtained  a  promise  from 
her,  which  she  never  afterwards  kept,  of  playing  upon  us  no  more 
practical  jokes.  Oh,  merry  times  did  that  old  swing  see  ;  but,  alas  ! 
it  saw  a  sad  scene  too.  One  afternoon,  a  party  of  six  girls  and  boys 
were  gathered  around  it,  ready  to  take  their  turn  in  our  air-car,  as 
we  called  it.  Each  selected  his  or  her  companion  for  the  voyage. 
Annie  Morris  chose  Dick  White,  for  she  knew  that  he,  like  herself, 
did  not  like  to  swing  very  high  ;  and  wild  Bet  Dayton  found  a  cor- 
responding spirit  in  Tom  Stephens,  who  boasted  that  he  could  throw 
a  ball  so  nicely  upward  that  he  could  catch  it  in  the  next  forward 
motion  before  it  could  fall  to  the  ground.  We  had  often  heard  of, 
but  never  seen,  this  wonderful  feat ;  however,  we  did  not  for  an 
instant  doubt  Tom's  word.  As  usual,  Frank  and  I,  with  arms  inter- 
laced, awaited  our  turn  together.  It  was  a  delicious  afternoon ;  the 


286  FAIRY-LAND 


skies  were  glowing  with  the  red  rays  of  the  departing  sun,  and  the 
air  was  full  of  fragrance.     From  the  open  windows  of  the  four  neigh- 
bors' houses  a  friendly  face  was  occasionally  seen,  or  a  mother  or  * 
sister  would  smile  upon  our  sport." 

Here  the  gentleman  paused  suddenly,  and  covered  his  face  with 
his  hand,  and  sighed  so  deeply,  that  I  thought  that  the  action  and 
the  sigh  were  an  earnest  of  something  very  sad  that  he  was  going  to 
relate,  and  so  it  proved. 

"  At  length  our  turn  came.  '  We  can  beat  them  all,'  said  Frank, 
with  a  loud;  ringing  laugh.  '  Hallo  !  John,  what  do  you  say  to  try- 
ing to  touch  one  of  those  low,  white  clouds  which  come  so  tempt- 
ingly near  us  ? '  '  With  all  my  heart,'  replied  I ;  '  nothing  venture, 
nothing  have  ;  push,  you  lazy  fellows !  all's  ready,  —  one,  two,  three ; 
we're  off ! '  and  with  the  united  efforts  of  the  two  other  boys  we  soon 
attained  a  respectable  height,  and  felt  as  happy  as  birds  in  the  air. 
Higher  and  higher  we  swung,  higher  than  we  had  ever  ventured 
before.  The  boys  below  seemed  like  dwarfs  to  our  eyes,  and  the 
girls'  white  dresses  like  fairy  robes. 

"  '  Is  not  this  almost  too  high  ? '  said  I  to  Frank,  tremblingly,  for 
I  felt  a  sensation  of  dizziness  as  I  looked  below. 

"  '  Too  high  ! '  exclaimed  Frank,  who,  I  believe,  never  feared  any- 
thing ;  '  too  high,  you  coward  !  No  /  I  tell  you  we  could  not  be  too 
near  the  skies,  if  we  followed  the  flight  of  that  swallow  yonder.' 

"  Upward  and  upward,  higher  and  higher,  nearer  the  swallow  we 
soared.  We  heard  our  companions  below  screaming  to  us  to  stop, 
and  we  saw  from  the  windows  of  the  neighbors'  houses  handkerchiefs 
waving,  which  we  always  understood  as  a  signal  to  return  home ; 
and  Frank,  who  was  always  thoughtful  of  the  feelings  of  others,  and 
obedient  to  his  parents'  slightest  wish,  stopped  his  exertions  to  keep 
the  swing  going,  intending  to  let  the  motion  '  die  away '  gradually. 

"  '  Let  us  give  the  setting  sun  three  cheers  ! '  said  he,  '  before  he 
leaves  us ' ;  and  holding  out  both  his  hands,  and  wawng  them  above 


AND  OTHER   TALES.  287 

his  head  (for  he  depended  upon  being  balanced  by  his  feet),  he  gave 
one  ringing  shout,  gushing  out  from  the  very  fulness  of  a  happy 
heart,  lost  his  equilibrium,  and  fell  down,  down,  down,  helpless  to 
the  earth." 

The  gentleman  shivered  here  as  if  he  were  cold,  and  again  cov- 
ered up  his  eyes,  and  drew  nearer  to  the.  fire.  Mother  made  a 
motion  for  him  to  proceed,  and  at  last  he  said,  — 

"  There  he  remained,  and  there  I  beheld  him,  as  each  forward  and 
backward  motion  of  the  swing  brought  me  nearer  to  the  ground.  I 
was  helpless  myself,  and  I  dared  not  spring  out,  for  two  reasons. 
One  was,  that  I  thought  that  I  might  crush  him,  for  I  could  not  cal- 
culate my  distance  ;  and  the  other  was,  that  just  after  his  fall  the 
swing  was  too  great  a  distance  from  the  earth  for  me  to  have 
attempted  it.  The  children  screamed,  and  made  several  ineffectual 
attempts  to  draw  him  out ;  but  the  continued  vibration  of  the  pen- 
dulum-like swing  prevented  their  touching  him,  as  he  was  immedi- 
ately under  the  path  which  it  described.  At  length  his  mother  came 
with  a  crowd  of  friends,  and  I,  freed  from  my  unhappy  position, 
looked  on  frightened  and  with  tearful  eyes. 

"  His  mother  !  Merciful  heaven  !  shall  I  ever  forget  her  strange 
expression,  as  she  looked  for  some  signs  of  blood,  some  bruise,  to 
tell  her  where  the  injury  was,  and  in  vain  ?  or  will  her  idiotic  stare, 
and  her  continued,  ever-continued  screams,  forever  come  up  to  my 
mind,  curdling  my  blood  in  my  veins,  and  making  a  trembler  of  me 
even  now  ? 

"  All  was  tried  on  the  spot  that  kindness  could  suggest,  to  bring 
him  back  to  life  and  to  us,  but  with  no  effect.  A  messenger  was 
instantly  despatched  to  the  nearest  town,  where  his  father  pursued 
his  business,  and  for  a  physician,  although  we  felt  that  the  aid  of 
the  latter  would  be  useless. 

"  Mrs.  Walpole  was  slight  and  delicate,  but  she  took  the  body  in 
her  arms,  and  scarcely  staggered  beneath  its  heavy  weight,  and  on 


283  FAIRY-LAND 


she  went,  accepting  no  offers  of  assistance  from  the  busy  neighbors, 
until  she  laid  him  on  a  couch  in  her  own  room,  and  then  sinking 
down  by  his  side,  with  her  strength  overtasked,  she  fainted.  Every 
one  who  wished  came  in  to  look  at  the  lovely  boy,  beautiful  beyond 
description.  His  long,  dark  eyelashes,  the  longest  I  ever  saw, 
swept  his  pale  cheeks  ;  and  his  lips,  so  brilliant  once,  now,  indeed, 
still  smiling ;  but  it  was  the  smile  of  carved  marble.  Every  resto- 
rative that  we  could  think  of  was  tried  again  and  again,  but  the 
hand  slid  lifelessly  from  our  loving  grasp,  and  the  heart-beats  seemed 

hushed  forever.  The  town  of was  several  miles  distant,  and  it 

would  be  some  hours  before  we  could  hope  for  the  arrival  of  Mr. 
Walpole  and  the  physician.  The  ladies  gathered  round,  and  meas- 
ured the  white  shroud  which  was  to  cover  my  beloved  friend.  Mrs. 
Walpole  looked  on  unresisting,  and  saw  them  close  his  white  eyelids 
more  securely,  and  press  together  his  smiling  lips  ;  but  as  they  were 
about  to  clothe  him  in  the  accustomed  robe  of  death,  she  stayed 
their  hands,  and  whispered,  hoarsely,  — 

" '  Only  let  his  father  see  him  as  he  is,  —  so  life-like,  so  beautiful ! 
Array  him  not  yet  in  the  garments  of  the  grave  !  A  shroud  !  My 
Francis  in  a  shroud!  Oh,  no!  My  God,  it  cannot  be!  Let  me 
die,  rather ! ' 

"  Her  wish  was  granted  ;  for  her  husband,  many  miles  in  advance 
of  the  physician,  rushed  into  the  room,  and  beheld  the  boy  whom  he 
had  left  in  the  early  morning  with  a  parting  blessing  on  his  beloved 
head,  now  stretched  out,  with  no  smile  to  greet  him  and  no  welcome 
in  his  voice.  What  cared  he  for  the  light  of  the  sun,  or  the  moon, 
or  the  stars,  now  that  the  light  of  his  life  had  departed  ?  He  only 
felt  that  his  boy  was  claimed  by  a  new  parent  —  Death  ! 

"The  physician  came  at  last;  but  no  encouraging  smile  was  upon 
his  benevolent  countenance  as  he  felt  the  boy's  pulse,  and  while  we 
all  watched  him,  hopeful  even  in  our  despair,  he  pushed  the  thick 
curls  from  his  white  brow,  and  pressed  his  fingers  upon  the  pulseless 


AXD   OTHER    TALES.  289 


temples  of  our  idol ;  he  felt  his  heart,  the  seat  of  life,  but  at  each 
action  a  greater  cloud  of  disappointment  shaded  his  face. 

" '  At  any  rate,'  said  he,  with  a  mournful,  sympathizing  smile,  '  we 
will  leave  no  means  untried,  and  we  will  see  if  the  blood  is  entirely 
stagnated.' 

"  We  all  gathered  round,  wondering  that  the  use  of  the  lancet  had 
not  occurred  to  us  before,  and  blamed  each  other  for  the  omission  ; 
but  as  is  often  the  case  in  great  danger,  we  had  neglected  the  only 
means  that  could  have  restored  consciousness,  had  there  been  life 
there.  We  took  a  fresh  gleam  of  hope  from  the  proceeding.  Each 
heart  seemed  beating  with  a  redoubled  impetus  " 

The  gentleman  stopped  again  here,  and  smiled  as  if  communing 
with  himself,  but  I  did  not  like  the  interruption,  for  I  felt  as  /  were 
standing  by  the  insensible  child  awaiting  the  issue,  and  I  impatiently 
exclaimed,  «  Well  ?  " 

He  recollected  himself  and  continued.  "The  lancet  did  its  work 
surely,  nobly.  No  blood  flowed  for  some  time,  but  at  length  a  drop 
slowly  oozed  from  the  puncture,  and  another,  and  another,  until  at 
last  it  came  as  freely  as  we  could  desire,  and  then  a  slight  tinge  of 
pink  colored  those  silent  lips,  and  a  soft  sigh  came  from  his  breast, 
as  audible  to  us,  though,  as  if  it  had  been  a  trumpet's  blast.  There 
was  life,  there  was  hope.  The  physician  motioned  us  to  be  quiet ; 
the  mother  suppressed  her  screams  of  joy,  while  the  father  wept 
silently,  bewildered  by  this  sudden  transition  from  agony  to  bliss  ; 
and  we,  who  stood  around,  simultaneously  bent  our  knees  in  silent 
prayer,  each  offering  a  petition  to  the  Giver  of  all  good,  to  continue 
the  life  which  hung  suspended  there.  And  the  prayer  was  granted. 
For  three  days  my  friend,  who  was  the  object  of  so  many  prayers, 
was  unconscious  of  all  that  was  passing  around ;  but,  on  the  fourth, 
his  eyes  opened  calmly  upon  earth's  scenes,  and  before  long  he  was 
enabled  to  engage  once  more  in  the  duties  and  pleasures  that  belong 
to  earth.  Whether  in  that  long  trance  of  unconsciousness  his  soul 
19 


FAIRY-LAND. 


journeyed  to  the  land  of  pure  spirits  and  there  learned  lessons  of 
beauty  and  goodness,  I  know  not ;  nor  can  he  fathom  that  parting  of 
the  spirit  from  the  body  ;  but  this  I  do  know,  that  since  that  awaken- 
ing hour  the  steps  of  my  friend  have  been  onward  and  heavenward, 
trying  to  lead  other  souls  into  the  land  of  pure  spirits  and  endeavor- 
ing to  reach,  by  the  holiness  of  his  life  here,  the  perfect  rest  here- 
after."   ^ 

WHITHER. 

WHITHER  are  you  going,  little  birdie  so  bright, 
Why  fly  you  so  fast  from  that  tree  ? 
Said  the  bird,  don't  you  know  I  am  going  to  my  nest 
All  my  pretty  young  nestlings  to  see  ? 

Whither  are  you  going,  little  fish  in  that  stream, 
'Neath  yon  smooth,  shining,  silvery  wave  ? 
Said  the  fish,  I  am  seeking  a  safe'  resting  place 
In  some  darksome  and  coral-lined  cave. 

Whither  are  you  going,  you  brown  autumn  leaf, 
Can't  you  stop  and  not  hasten  away  ? 
Said  the  leaf,  I  am  seeking  a  still,  sheltered  nook, 
Where  in  quiet  my  form  I  may  lay. 

Whither  are  you  going,  with  your  buzz  and  your  hum  ; 
Say  where  are  you  going,  little  bee  ? 
Said  the  bee,  some  sweet  honey  I  seek  for  my  hive 
In  each  pretty  bright  flower  I  see. 

Whither  are  you  going,  little  lamb  in  that  field, 
With  your  plaintive  and  tremulous  bleat  ? 
Oh,  I  go,  said  the  lamb,  where  the  soft  dew  Is  fresh 
And  to  crop  the  green  herbage  so  sweet. 

And  where  zr&you  going,  with  your  sleepy  blue  eyes, 
Little  girl,  as  you  hasten  along  ? 
Oh,  mother  waits  for  me  to  rock  me,  she  said, 
On  her  breast,  fast  to  sleep,  with  a  song. 


AND   OTHER    TALES.  29 1 

• 

DAY  AND   NIGHT. 

THEIR   QUARREL   AND   RECONCILIATION. 

BY  my  window  I  stood  on  a  soft  autumn  even, 
While  the  last  blush  of  sunlight  red  tinted  the  heaven, 
When  the  breeze,  blowing  softly,  the  restless  leaves  stirred, 
And  the  faint  pipe  of  birdlings  around  me  was  heard. 

"  How  sweet,"  said  I,  gently,  "  this  meeting  of  Day 
And  the  first  star  of  Night,  with  its  tremulous  ray, 
While  the'sun  calmly  sinks  from  his  throne  in  the  skies, 
As  if  leaving  a  blessing  behind  as  he  dies. 

"Can  any  one  tell  which  we  ought  to  love  best  — 
The  Day  when  we  labor,  or  Night  when  we  rest  ? 
The  Day  for  glad  meetings  and  pleasure  and  play, 
The  Night  for  the  slumber  which  follows  the  Day  ?  " 

I  started,  for  lo  !  from  a  crimson-fringed  cloud, 
A  voice  sounded  sternly,  impatient,  and  loud  ; 
I  looked,  and  a  giant,  whose  face  was  the  sun, 
Outspoke  as  if  I  some  great  evil  had  done. 

Oh,  I  do  assure  you,  his  eyes  bright  and  bold 
Were  flashing  all  colors,  from  ebon  to  gold, 
His  arms  seemed  extended  to  crush  my  slight  form, 
And  the  frown  on  his  brow  was  a  menacing  storm. 

"  How  dare  you,  frail  mortal,  compare  me  with  Night, 
That  babe,  that  mere  insect  with  power  and  might  ? 
I  light  man  to  labor,  I  give  him  his  bread, 
I  quicken  the  seed  in  its  cold,  darksome  bed. 

"  I  color  the  flowers  with  delicate  dyes, 
With  a  brush  that  I  dip  in  my  own  glowing  skies, 
The  rainbow  I  paint  and  all  rich  fruitage  send  — 
Oh  !  which  of  us,  then,  is  of  mortals  the  friend  ? 


292  FAIRY-LAND 


"  I  relieve  the  night  watcher,  all  weary  and  worn, 
i  gladden  the  hearts  of  the  cold  and  forlorn, 
I  give  —  "  but  he  slowly  sank  down  in  the  west, 
And  left  me  all  trembling  to  finish  the  rest. 

But,  as  I  was  thinking  'twas  really  the  sun 

Who  all  that  was  good  on  the  wide  earth  had  done, 

Another  voice  came  from  the  far-away  east, 

So  sweet,  that  it  frightened  me  not  in  the  least 

A  maiden  I  saw,  oh,  so  pale  and  so  fair, 
That  I  thought  her  frail  beauty  would  die  in  the  air ; 
A  silver  light  shone  from  her  deep,  tender  eyes, 
And  she  gracefully  moved  as  a  bird  when  it  flies.* 

"I  come,"  said  she,  quickly,  "as  Queen  of  the  Night,       » 
Forever  yon  proud  and  bold  upstart  to  blight ; 
Can  you  doubt,  for  one  instant,  my  might  and  my  power 
To  shed  cooling  dew  on  the  sun-withered  flower  ? 

"  Who  brings  quiet  sleep  to  the  work-tired  frame, 
When  in  anguish  men  call  on  my  powerful  name  ? 
Who  whispers  blest  dreams,  gives  sweet  converse  and  rest, 
If  not  I,  who  am  ever  a  thrice-welcome  guest  ? 

"  Rash  being  !  at  least,  when  the  question  you  asked, 
If  your  memory  had  for  one  instant  been  tasked, 
I  should  think  that  your  gratitude,  small  though  it  be, 
Would  have  led  you  to  choose,  as  the  best  of  gifts,  me" 

"  I'm  convinced  "  said  I,  frightened,  "  that  there  is  no  choice 
'Twixt  the  Day  and  the  Night," —  I  assure  you  my  voice 
Issued  hoarsely  and  trembling — "oh,  equal axz  you, 
Brilliant  sun,  lovely  moon,  in  your  power,  'tis  true." 

Then  glad  was  I  wisdom  was  lent  me  that  nigar, 

To  lead  me  to  answer  these  fearful  foes  right ; 

It  was  all  that  they  wanted;  I  saw  by  her  face, 

As  she  drew  her  robe  round  her  ana  quickened  her  pace. 


AND   OTHER    TALES.  293 

"  I  am  late,"  she  said,  softly,  and  went  on  her  way, 
"  But  see,  there's  once  more  that  bold  ruler  of  Day." 
Sure  enough,  he  peeped  o'er  the  horizon  once  more, 
And  a  smile  lit  his  face  far  more  bright  than  before. 

And  his  voice,,  not  now  thunder  but  softened,  uprose, 

And  his  gaze  flushed  her  face  like  a  bud  ere  it  blows. 

"  Peace,"  he  said  ;  "  peace,"  she  echoed ;  —  all  tumult  was'  hushed, 

And  to  tell  the  strange  tale  all  the  meteors  rushed. 

Then  I,  brooding  solemnly  over  the  same, 
To  my  desk  and  my  pen  and  ink,  hastily  came, 
To  tell  this  sky-news  to  earth's  denizens,  too, 
And  I  hope,  little  reader,  to  interest  you. 


Ur 


